Night Eye
by skyflower51
Summary: Five hundred years have passed since Alduin's defeat, and the people of Skyrim have almost forgotten the Dragonborn. The Greybeards are gone, the way of the voice is abandoned, and some are beginning to doubt that the Dovahkiin ever existed. But Alduin was not defeated all those years ago. He has returned. And the Khajiit girl A'jira might just be the one to stand against him.
1. Taking Flight

NIGHT EYE

Summary: 500 years after Alduin's defeat, the people of Skyrim have almost forgotten the Dragonborn. The Greybeards are gone, the way of the voice is abandoned, and some are beginning to doubt that the Dovahkiin even existed.

Then the dragons return. Could an inexperienced, naive Khajiit girl be the one to defeat them? Could young A'jira really be Dragonborn?

Disclaimer: Skyrim, the idea of a Dragonborn, and anything else you recognise from the game obviously wasn't made by me.

Claimer: A'jira, the plot and the other characters obviously were.

Author's Note: A'jira's name is pronounced with a soft J, as in the French _Jardin, _rather than a hard J as in jungle or a Y sounding J as in Jarl.

I know that after 500 years Skyrim would probably be very different to how it is in the game, but I'm going to keep anything that I don't want to be changed the same for simplicity.

To remain neutral, I'm not going to specify whether the Skyrim civil war was won by the Imperials or Stormcloaks in this story.

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**PART ONE- A'JIRA**

Chapter One- Taking Flight

Date: 500 years after the events of _Skyrim_

7th of Sun's Height

Location: Whiterun

A'jira had done nothing wrong. That was the worst of it. She'd been unlucky, that was all, and now it was going to get her slung in jail, if not killed. She had a strong sense of racial pride- like most of her people, the Khajiit- but sometimes she would have given anything to become a human, or an elf. She wouldn't have even minded turning into an Argonian, despite the fact that they were the Khajiit's greatest rivals. It was the Nords; all the fault of the Nords- they looked at the Khajiit and all they ever saw were thieves, smugglers, assassins and Skooma dealers. And it was true for some of them. Their agility, stealth, and ability to see in the dark made them the best of pickpockets and murderers. But not of all of the Khajiit were like that. The same as not all Bosmer were skilled archers, and not all Redguards were confident with one-handed weapons, not all of A'jira's people were dishonest thieves. A few bad apples spoil the bunch, as they say. A few Khajiit who exploited their skills to become assassins and so on had got the entire race typecast as murderous Skooma addicts. It simply wasn't fair.

And A'jira was tasting the bitterness of this to the full. As she hurdled over a surprised-looking cow and darted past the guard who hurled himself at her, she couldn't believe how utterly unjust the whole situation was. Ok, so Khajiit always seemed to have the knack of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but that didn't automatically make them the guilty party. Had it been her fault she'd been walking out of the Whiterun general store at the same moment as some crazy Orc hurled himself on an innocent beggar who'd happened to be walking by? By the twin moons, she'd tried to help the old man! But the Orc had been too quick, driving a knife into the beggar's side before A'jira could so much as lay a talon on him. The beggar had shouted for help with his last breath, and the Orc had jumped forward to silence him. A'jira had pushed him into the dirt with all her strength, drawing her dagger to be on the safe side. Then she had run to the old beggar's side to see if she could help. What she didn't take into account was what the city guards would see as they rounded the corner- a semi-unconscious Orc, a dead man, and A'jira standing over the victim holding a knife.

She'd tried to explain, of course, and the fact that the Orc's dagger was covered in blood while hers was clean as the day it had been made should have been proof enough for anyone, but just as she'd opened her mouth to tell the guards what had happened, the Orc had ruined everything by shouting, 'She did it!' and yelling for the guards to grab her. A'jira had tried to protest, but as far as the guards were concerned, she was a Khajiit, and that put her in the wrong.

And so, pursued by the entire Whiterun guard and several shouts of 'By order of the Jarl, stop right there!' and 'You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people. What say you in your defence?' A'jira had been forced to run. She'd been impulsive, she knew- she should have stayed and tried to defend herself to the Jarl- but she was faster than the guards, who were weighed down with armour and weapons, and was determined not to be caught. That and the Orc would have probably murdered her too, had she stayed. With luck, she could make it to the stables, steal a horse, and run for her life. She knew it would mean never again returning to Whiterun, for she would be branded as a murderer and thief there for the rest of her life, but there were plenty of other places to go. Riften, for example. The place was known as a den of thieves, and Khajiit were more respected there. Not that A'jira would ever become a thief, of course, she was far too honourable for that, but it would be nice to live somewhere that didn't judge you by race. Would it ever be possible for her to be judged not by the fact that she had fur, talons and a tail, but by the content of her character?

_Not today, at any rate, _she thought bitterly, as she sprinted at full speed towards the city gates. If she could just make it out, she'd be in with a chance. If she could get a horse, the guards would give up after a while, knowing they'd never catch her. She hated running away- her nature told her to stand and fight- but the guards were all far better fighters than her, and she wouldn't stand a chance, armed only with her dagger. No, her only hope was to run. Fast.

The gates were just ahead. A'jira covered the final distance and scrabbled with the bolt. It shot back with a clang, and with a pant of relief she wrenched the gate open. She felt a hand clamp down on her shoulder as she turned to run again, but she twisted out of the person's grip and slashed at them with her talons, not looking to see who they were. A howl told her that she had hit her mark. Dashing out of the gate, she made straight for the stables. A horse- black, like all of the horses in the Whiterun area- stood by the stable wall, just begging to be stolen. A'jira made a beeline for it, her ragged leather boots threatening to fall to pieces as she ran. Mentally she begged them to hold for just a bit longer. Like everything A'jira owned, they were worn, second-hand and in desperate need of replacement. Her dagger (iron, the cheapest she could find) was rusty, her tunic was filthy, threadbare and full of holes, and her coin purse held next to nothing. She couldn't afford to pay the fine that would come with being apprehended, meaning that she'd be thrown in prison for months, maybe years. Even if she managed to somehow prove her innocence, she'd still face a fine for disturbing the peace- a fine she could not possibly pay.

A'jira leaped up, her claws digging into the stable wall. She scrabbled to find a hold. If she could just get over it, she could reach the horse and be gone. She heard a twang and a whistle as something shot over her head and buried itself in the roof of the stable. An arrow. Fear shot through her. The guards were shooting to kill! Terror lent her strength and she managed to scramble to the top of the wall. Using her tail to balance, she prepared to leap down into the stable yard. It was quite a drop, but then Khajiit always landed on their feet. She tensed, ready to jump.

Another twang. An arrow smashed into the wall beside her. Startled, A'jira leaped away from it, acting on instinct. Before she could stop herself she was falling off the wall- the wrong way. She twisted in mid-air, and hit the ground lightly and perfectly, but the damage had been done. The few moments she used to right herself were all it took for the guards to catch up. They rushed towards her, swords drawn.

A'jira was backed against the wall. If she tried to climb it again, she'd be a sitting duck. If she fought, she'd be killed. She pulled her dagger from her belt and threw it away, holding up her paws in surrender. The guards, seeing she wasn't going to try and escape again, sheathed their swords and bows, except for the leader.

'You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people. What say you in your defence?' he growled. It was the same speech every time; A'jira was surprised they didn't get bored.

'I didn't kill him,' she replied, striving with all her might to stay reasonable and calm, knowing this would make the guards fairer towards her.

'Of course you didn't,' one guard scoffed sarcastically. 'You were standing right next to the man, holding a dagger.'

'A dagger which, if you look at it, is completely devoid of blood,' A'jira countered coolly.

The guards' heads turned, looking at the weapon as it lay on the grass, and A'jira saw a few of their eyes widening behind their helmets. 'Indeed it is. So who do you accuse of the crime?' the leader inquired.

'It was that Orc. He stormed round the corner and stabbed the man just as I was coming out of the shop,' A'jira explained. 'I tried to stop him, but I wasn't quick enough. He was probably drunk.' _Skooma, _she thought crossly. _He stank of the stuff._

The guard leader turned to his men. 'Did somebody grab the Orc in question?'

'No, but I know where he lives. We can take him in for questioning,' one of them replied. A'jira sagged with relief. Maybe she would make it out of this, after all.

'Oh, come on. It's obvious who did it. She's a Khajiit,' another snorted, dashing A'jira's hopes and completely ruining her 'remain calm' plan.

'Do you think I asked to be born a Khajiit?' she snarled, flattening her ears and lashing her tail from side to side. 'Just because I happen to have talons and amber eyes, it doesn't mean I'm guilty of every crime under the twin moons. I admit that some of my people are brought up as thieves and assassins, but I never knew my parents, so I wasn't. I grew up in the Riften Honorhall- the orphanage. I never chose my race, so don't judge me on it, thank you very much.'

The guards glanced at each other uncomfortably. What A'jira said was true, every word. She'd been found as a kit on the roadside by a travelling merchant on his way to Riften, her parents presumably kidnapped or killed by bandits or wolves. It was a mystery, though, what had become of them- there'd been to traces of bodies, or a fight, anywhere near the place where she'd been found. The merchant, who hadn't had the money to look after a child, had taken her to the Honorhall, where she'd stayed until she was fourteen, and old enough to seek her future elsewhere. That had been two years ago. A'jira had longed for the day when she'd be able to leave the orphanage, but she'd been sorely disappointed by the world outside. Her race was despised, her money soon ran out, and she'd had to earn her living selling whatever she could find- which was why she'd been in Whiterun that day. She'd always dreamt of finding and joining one of the Khajiit caravans that roamed Skyrim, where she'd be accepted and hopefully welcomed, but they were too hard to find if you didn't know their schedule. Recently she'd had to sell her favourite weapon, a hunting bow which had been given to her as a leaving present by the owner of the Honorhall, in order to buy food. Reflecting on her life, A'jira suddenly realised that she didn't care what became of her now. Maybe it would be easier for the guards to simply kill her than to keep on living this wretched existence, mistrusted and hated because of something she hadn't been able to choose.

'Well, her story holds water. I mean, she doesn't speak like most cats,' one guard commented. He grinned and gave pitiful impression of the Khajiit way of speaking. 'Khajiit walks in your footsteps. These sands are cold, but Khajiit feels warmness from your presence.' He sniggered, but fell silent under A'jira's vicious glare.

'I am not a cat,' she hissed menacingly, 'I'm a Khajiit, and proud of it.'

The leader stroked his chin thoughtfully. 'Hmm, well, the Jarl would kill us if we arrested the wrong person. Come on then, Miss not-a-cat. To Dragonsreach. Then we'll let the Jarl figure out who's guilty.'

A'jira breathed out, suddenly aware that she'd been holding her breath. Falling in with the guards, she followed them, head lowered, back into the city. She felt curious eyes scan her as she passed, and heard whispers pass between the townsfolk. A'jira raised her head and held her tail high, defying anybody to say she had been beaten. They passed through the Plains district, the commercial part of Whiterun, up into the Wind district, which was the residential area, and finally up the staircase into the Cloud district, where the imposing form of Dragonsreach, the Jarl's palace, dominated the skyline.

Dragonsreach. The place was famous. Five hundred years ago, the legendary Dragonborn- his name now lost in the mists of time- drew the dragon Odahviing into the great hall of the palace, trapping him until he agreed to help the Dragonborn to find Alduin, the world eater, leader of the dragons. Though many people denied that the Dragonborn ever existed, A'jira liked to think that the story was true. It was said that the Dragonborn had been a prisoner of the Imperials, sentenced to death, when the dragons returned. He rose from the lowest of the low to the only hope of all of Tamriel practically overnight. And not only did he save Skyrim from the dragons- if the stories were true, he restored the Companions to their former glory, rebuilt the Dark Brotherhood, became leader of the Thieves' Guild, and much more. The old tale reminded A'jira that life wasn't all bad. Maybe one day, like the Dragonborn, she'd become a hero. She wasn't expecting to save Skyrim from doom and destruction, but perhaps she had a future, after all. She smiled, her whiskers twitching.

The guards led her through the doors and into the great hall. A'jira stopped and stood still, staring open-mouthed at the wealth and glory around her. The ceiling was so high that she was sure that if all of the six or seven guards surrounding her stood on each other's shoulders, they still wouldn't be able to touch it. The two tables on either side of the hall were laden with silver plates and goblets. The dishes were filled with food- bread, meat, fish, sweetrolls… A'jira felt her mouth watering and forced herself to look away. She loved sweetrolls, but was never able to spare the coin to buy any. In fact, she doubted that even if she sold everything she owned, she wouldn't be able to purchase some of the things on the tables. How could people live like this, hoarding away all of this splendour, never giving so much as a single Septim to people like her, who had to save up for weeks to buy a loaf of bread? Fury rose up within her, but she forced it down. Getting angry wasn't going to solve anything.

The Jarl, Brandor, was seated on his throne at the far end of the hall, giving orders to a tall, stern-looking Bosmer who A'jira assumed was his Housecarl. Her sensitive ears angled forwards to see what he was saying. Something about recovering his sword from some place or other. The words were too quiet and fast for even her to make out properly. Well, if the Jarl couldn't look after his sword properly, it wasn't really her concern.

'Hail, Brandor, Jarl of Whiterun,' the captain of the guards called out respectfully. 'We found this Khajiit at the site of a murder. She claims that she was innocent, and that an Orc was the killer. The Orc claimed that it was her. We haven't yet managed to apprehend the aforementioned Orc, but when we do, what should we do?'

The Jarl stroked his golden beard thoughtfully. 'Do you know who this Orc was?'

'I recognised him. His name's Ugmak something or other,' a guard informed him. 'He lives in the Wind district. He's nice enough usually, but he gets violent when he's been drinking.'

'Go and fetch him,' the Jarl commanded.

A few guards nodded respectfully and hurried out. The Jarl fixed his dangerous grey gaze on her. She forced herself to meet it without blinking. 'Name, Khajiit?'

_At least he has the decency not to call me a cat, _A'jira thought. 'A'jira Tygra,' she told him. The name had been found engraved on a wooden amulet shaped like a flying dragon that had been around her neck when she'd been found. She'd worn it all her life, and now her hand clenched it, needing a link with her past to help her stay strong. It made her sad to think that they were the only things she had from her parents- a wooden necklace and her name.

'Your race always seems to find trouble,' the Jarl sighed. A'jira bit her tongue to stop herself from saying something fierce. 'Why were you accused of this murder?'

'She was found holding a dagger,' the guard leader explained.

'I was asking A'jira, not you,' the Jarl said smoothly. A'jira was surprised- not many people called her by her name. In fact, nobody did. 'And what is your defence?'

'My dagger doesn't have any blood on it,' she replied. A guard who had picked it up held it out as proof.

'Hmm.' Brandor frowned.

'If you were innocent, why did you run?' a guard challenged her.

A'jira bowed her head, realising this was one point where she was at fault. 'I know it's a rubbish excuse, but it's true. I just acted on instinct. It's in my nature to avoid trouble, even if Khajiit do have a talent for finding it. And I was rather scared that the Orc might have attacked me. He wasn't very pleased that I knocked him to the ground.'

Brandor looked contemplatively at her. 'Her story seems plausible enough to me. But we won't know until we question this Orsimer.' He used the true name for the Orcs, A'jira noticed. That was unusual.

After a wait of about ten minutes, the guards returned. With them was the Orc. A'jira recognised him instantly, and she bared her teeth before she could stop herself. The guards escorted the Orc to stand beside A'jira, before stepping aside and leaving Brandor to question the pair of them.

'You are Ugmak?' the Jarl asked.

The Orc grunted in assent. A'jira wrinkled her nose at the stink of Skooma on his breath.

'The situation is as follows, I believe,' Brandor announced, pressing the tips of his fingers together. 'According to A'jira here, you attacked a man and killed him. You then accused her of the murder. Am I right?'

A'jira nodded.

'Rubbish,' Ugmak growled. 'She killed the old man. Then she attacked me.'

The captain of the guard stepped forwards. 'Then how do you explain the fact that your dagger was found coated with blood, while the cat's was clean?'

Ugmak looked worried for a second, but it was only for a moment, hardly visible to anyone who wasn't as observant as A'jira. 'Oh, well, um, that's because it's her dagger, not mine. I snatched it out of her hand to stop her. So she drew another one. That's the one you've got there.' He pointed.

'Liar!' A'jira burst out, her tail whipping from side to side.

'Huh, that's rich coming from you, cat! Your race would lie about the colour of the sky!'

'Don't you dare call me cat, murderer! I'm a Khajiit!'

'You'll make a fine carpet after you've been executed, _cat._'

A'jira hissed and unsheathed her talons.

'Silence! Stop it, both of you. Now.' The Jarl glared at them both. 'Patience and understanding will achieve far more than rage and violence.'

Ugmak glowered at him, and his hand moved to the empty sheath at his side where his dagger would be if the guards hadn't taken it. A'jira looked at the sheath, and her eyes widened. Suddenly she had an idea- an idea that might well save her life and clear her name.

'The man,' she said tentatively. 'The man who was stabbed. He was stabbed here, wasn't he?' She placed one hand on her right side. The guards nodded.

A'jira pointed to the Orc's dagger holder. 'You're left-handed, Ugmak.'

Silence fell in the hall as everyone tried to work out what A'jira meant. And then the realisation hit home. If you are facing a man, about to stab his side, and you're right handed, then the dagger will strike his left side. But a left-handed attacker will create an injury in the right side of his victim.

A'jira's sheath was at her left hip, so that she could draw her dagger easily with her right hand if she needed to defend herself. But Ugmak's sheath was on his right hip. He was left handed. A'jira could not have wounded that man in the place that he was wounded. But the Orc could.

'Well,' Brandor said presently. 'That clears things up nicely.'

The Orc's eyes widened as he began to understand. 'No, wait! That doesn't prove anything! She- she could have stabbed him with a backhand or something!'

His blustering as good as proved his guilt. The guards grabbed him and hauled him, struggling with all his might, to the dungeons. A'jira felt like a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Her wits were her best weapon, and she'd definitely put them to good use.

'Well, I'm glad to have that sorted.' The Jarl rubbed his hands together. 'But I'm afraid you mustn't think you've completely got off, A'jira. You've caused quite a stir, you know, and though it's not a very serious crime, disrupting the, um, _harmony _of the city is still a crime.'

'I know. I'm sorry.' A'jira looked at the floor. 'But I don't have enough money to pay the fine.'

The Jarl frowned, but A'jira saw sympathy in his eyes. 'Well, I'm afraid that the law can't be ignored, my young friend. If a law breaker can't pay the fine, then it's a prison sentence. Only a short one, in this case, just a day or two, but that's the law, and it has to be obeyed.'

_Could be worse, _A'jira thought. 'I understand.'

'Wait a moment, my lord.' The Wood Elf that A'jira had noticed earlier stepped forwards, running a hand along his bow. 'I have another idea.'

Brandor looked at his Housecarl with interest. 'Indeed, Faenlor? What might that idea be?'

Faenlor turned to A'jira. 'Recently, the Jarl ordered a new sword to be made for him by a famous blacksmith in Solitude. However, on the way here, the deliverer of the sword was attacked. By Draugr.'

'By what?' A'jira had never heard of the things.

'Draugr. They are undead Nords who are said to have served the dragons in the days of old, and were punished with undeath for their treachery,' Faenlor explained. 'They dwell in ancient Nord burial sites. It's very rare for them to come up to the surface, but these ones did. The deliverer was attacked and nearly killed. In his haste to get away, he dropped the Jarl's sword. His lordship has asked me to retrieve it for him.'

The Bosmer narrowed his eyes. 'You are clearly a clever one, Khajiit, and you look fast and strong. If you wish to avoid this jail sentence, how would you like to instead accompany me on this venture?'

A'jira's amber eyes widened. Her mind grappled with the decision. She could go to jail, and stay safe, but bored out of her fur. Or she could help Faenlor to return the Jarl's sword, and face mortal danger, and yet experience adventure and excitement for the first time in her life. And if she succeeded, there might well be a reward in it for her…

A'jira raised her head high.

'I'll do it,' she said.

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**This is my first Elder Scrolls fanfic, so I really want it to work. A bit more excitement will be happening next chapter as A'jira and Faenlor venture into an ancient Nord burial site. Please review!**


	2. Deepest Darkness

**Ulfgard is entirely made by me. I was going to use an actual burial site from the game, but I was worried that people might complain about me not portraying it accurately enough, so I made my own instead.**

**A'jira's poem is also mine. Please do not copy it as I'm quite proud of it.**

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Chapter Two- Deepest Darkness

Date: 8th of Sun's Height

Location: Ulfgard

A'jira felt strange in the heavy steel armour that the Jarl had lent her. She was used to wearing thin tunics, rather than this weighty metal. It was so much harder to run laden down with all this gear. But the Jarl had insisted on her taking it, saying that she'd be glad of it once she was inside Ulfgard, the ancient Nordic tomb where his sword was supposed to be, facing skeletons, skeevers and Draugr. So, despite her protests, she'd been kitted out in steel armour that shone so brightly A'jira was sure that the Draugr would see her coming a mile away and a hide helmet which made it hard to move her head. However, she'd had no arguments about the quiver of steel arrows or the beautiful elven bow that Faenlor had given her. It was so wonderfully easy to use, and the arrows seemed to fly exactly where she wanted them to go. Faenlor, despite his stern appearance, turned out to be kind and patient. He taught her exactly how to aim accurately and get the best results. 'Speed, accuracy, height, power, and distance,' he told her, as they rode- or, in A'jira's case, bounced- towards the tomb. 'That's what you need to get the best results from a bow. And remember that you have to trust in the bow, in the arrows, and in yourself. Without trust, you're not going to get anywhere.'

'What's the best way to bring down a moving target?' A'jira inquired. 'When I still had my old hunting bow, I used to come out onto the plains sometimes, to hunt elk. They got good money if I managed to bring one down. But I could never get them if they ran.'

Faenlor smiled. _He likes having an eager student. It's like being back in the orphanage school, _A'jira thought in amusement. 'The trick,' the Bosmer told her, 'is to aim ahead of where they're going, because by the time your arrow gets there, that's where they'll be.'

A'jira hadn't thought of that before. It made sense, though. 'How long have you been the Jarl's Housecarl?'

'Ten years. Feels like more. I get teased a fair bit, being a Bosmer. Most Nords prefer to be guarded by other Nords. But I don't mind. It's my duty, and I'm proud to do it, elf or not.'

A'jira sighed. 'You're lucky.' She pulled the head of the horse she'd been lent away from a patch of grass it was trying to reach.

Faenlor threw her a sidelong glance. 'Really? Why's that?'

'You're Bosmer. At least people trust you.'

The elf gave a throaty chuckle. 'The Jarl trusts you enough to accompany me to retrieve his sword.'

'That's different. It was this or a jail sentence.'

'So, you don't like being a Khajiit?'

A'jira paused and considered this. 'I do like being one,' she said slowly. 'We can see in the dark, we can move more silently than any other race, and we've got the advantages of fur to keep us warm, tails to help us balance, talons to help us fight…' She shook her head. 'But what I don't like is how we're treated. You saw it yourself with those guards. They chased me straight away, just because I'm a Khajiit. Everyone sees us badly. That's why you're lucky. There's no trust for the Khajiit in Skyrim.'

Faenlor shrugged. 'Trust has to be earned, you know. And you have to admit that your race hasn't done much to earn it.'

A'jira's ears flattened involuntarily. 'That's not our fault. When the first Khajiit came to Skyrim, they were treated like animals by so many people that it was hard to find work. So they took the first jobs they found. And the people who offered them jobs were thieves and assassins, because Khajiit are so good at sneaking around. So more and more of my people took up that sort of job, because it was the only profession where they were welcomed. And now nobody can look at us without thinking of that. If the Nords hadn't been so prejudiced, it wouldn't be like this.'

Her companion bit his lip. 'Well, maybe you're right. But I've had to deal with racism too, A'jira. You just need to prove yourself. Maybe you can help the Khajiit get a better sterotype.'

'Me?' A'jira snorted with laughter. 'How am I supposed to change our reputation?'

'Never underestimate what one man can do. Or woman, for that matter. If they have the courage, a single mortal can change the world beyond all recognition.'

'I guess,' A'jira said uncertainly.

'Surely being part of a race that's looked down on makes you want to fight to make people see its good qualities? There are good things about being a Khajiit, I'm sure,' Faenlor insisted.

In answer, A'jira quietly murmured a poem she'd composed herself in her younger days:

_Who battles the dragon and comes away clean?_

_Who uses their wits and their talons to fight?_

_Who hides in the shadows and walks unseen?_

_Who has the eyes that can see in the night?_

_Who hunts in the moonlight, and never feels pain?_

_Who falls from the mountain and lands on their feet?_

_Who has the blood of the night in their veins?_

_Who but the proud and the fearless Khajiit?_

Faenlor smiled. 'That's some good poetry. Did you make that?'

A'jira nodded, blushing slightly, even though the blush was hidden by her fur.

'It's very good. There you are, then, the skills of the Khajiit: sneaking, seeing in the dark, landing on their feet, and poetry.'

A'jira laughed. It was good to be with somebody who didn't judge her, somebody who encouraged her to believe in herself and have pride in her race. She'd never met anyone who thought like that before.

A'jira's horse suddenly stopped moving. 'Stupid creature,' A'jira muttered, digging her heels into its sides. The horse stubbornly refused to move an inch.

'It's because we're getting near the tomb. Most animals stay away from such places,' Faenlor explained, steering his palomino mare over to A'jira and taking hold of her horse's bridle. 'Come on, Naril. You've been to worse places than this.'

Naril dug in his hooves and snorted, pulling away from Faelor's grasp. A'jira kicked him on again. Naril's response was to rear up, whinnying, and throw her off his back. The young Khajiit landed ungraciously in the dirt, having had no time to flip over and make her usual perfect landing. 'Thanks!' A'jira yelled bitterly at the black stallion, which snorted and pawed the ground in reply.

Scrambling up, A'jira tried to mount him again, but he skittered away. Grabbing his noseband, she tried to drag him forwards instead, but Naril moved backwards, his eyes rolling with fear. Furious, A'jira leaped for the nearest tree, using her talons to climb its rough bark. Reaching a likely-looking branch, she crept along it, waiting until she was directly above the horse's back before she jumped. She dropped straight into the saddle, but the stallion's response was to instantly buck her off, turn tail, and flee. Soon he was nothing more than a black smudge among the trees.

'Oh, that's just perfect!' A'jira yowled angrily.

'Can't be helped. He'll just go back to the stables,' Faenlor assured her, dismounting. 'We'll go on foot from here.' He deftly tied his mare, Summer, to a tree, and gestured to the stone archway on the horizon. A'jira's fur stood on end at the sight of it, and she took her bow from its holder on her back. Faenlor did the same. Slowly, stepping carefully, they made their way over to the archway.

'Have a look around for the sword,' Faenlor ordered. 'The Draugr may not have taken it inside the tomb.'

A'jira's sharp eyes scanned the surrounding area, but there wasn't a trace of the blade. She walked around the arch in a careful circle, looking for it, and that was when she came upon the body.

'Faenlor,' she gasped in a strangled sort of voice.

The Bosmer came running around the arch, and nodded grimly when he saw the limp grey corpse. 'That's a Draugr.'

'It's horrible,' A'jira whispered.

'You'll be seeing plenty more inside the tomb,' was the terse reply. 'Come on. It's obvious that the sword isn't here. The loathsome things must have taken it inside.'

Faenlor went to open the door to the burial site. The half rotten wood came away in his hand and fell to the ground. A'jira kicked it away and stepped up beside Faenlor, peering into the darkness. A passageway stretched ahead of her, followed by a stairway, vanishing into inky blackness.

'I can't see a damn thing,' Faenlor growled.

A'jira laughed. 'Now I'm seriously glad I'm a Khajiit. At least we can see in the dark.'

'You'd best lead the way,' the elf advised, gesturing for A'jira to go first. 'I'll freely admit that the Khajiit have the best vision in Tamriel.'

A'jira nodded and stepped into the narrow passageway. 'There's about forty or so steps, heading downwards,' she informed Faenlor.

'Perfect,' he muttered. 'What's the betting I fall down them and break my neck?'

'Very high,' A'jira smirked, heading down the staircase. 'Ok, we're turning left after the last step.' She blinked, straining her eyes into the gloom. Behind her, Faenlor cursed as he misplaced a foot and nearly fell.

The passageway opened out into a small hexagonal chamber, lit by flaming torches. A'jira shivered as she took in the corpses, lying on the indents in the walls that were their resting places, their arms crossed over their chests and their greyish skin clinging to their bones. To her sensitive nose, the smell was almost unbearable. Faenlor made a noise of disgust. 'Watch out for Draugr,' he warned her. 'They often lie on these burial chambers, pretending to be dead bodies.'

A'jira shivered. 'Who do you think keeps these torches alight?' she asked Faenlor nervously. The Bosmer shrugged.

'Could be the Draugr, I suppose, but then again, it could mean that some crazy adventurer's been down here before us and lit these things to light his way. It's anyone's guess. I'm just glad they're there,' he replied. 'Now, remember to keep looking for the Jarl's sword. One of the Draugr might have it, or it could be lying about. Or maybe…' His voice trailed off.

'Maybe what?' A'jira said worriedly.

Faenlor's face was grim. 'The Draugr have a habit of hiding precious items in the very heart of their burial sites. Most likely, it'll be in the final chamber, guarded by the leader of this particular Draugr band. Either that or the Draugr leader will be using it himself. We'll have to see.'

A'jira didn't think that the prospect sounded particularly promising, but she continued down the passage that led into the next chamber. At a nod from Faenlor, she nocked an arrow to her bow. She didn't like this one bit. The lack of opposition, the silence, the smell of death and decay in the air… it was so sinister. She half expected something to leap out and attack her at any second.

A noise in the silence. A'jira's ears pricked. Listening intently, she was sure she could hear a noise in the chamber beyond. She turned to Faenlor. Not wanting to reveal their presence to whatever was there, she pointed to the next chamber with her bow, and showed her teeth. She wasn't sure if the elf would understand, but to her relief he seemed to get what she was driving at. He jerked his loaded arrow at the chamber, and raised his eyebrows questioningly. A'jira nodded in affirmation. Faenlor drew back his arm, ready to loose the arrow, and A'jira did the same. Slowly, carefully, quietly, they rounded the corner.

A'jira had seen the dead body outside the tomb, but it couldn't have possible prepared her for the real creature. It was the most awful sight she'd seen in her sixteen years. The Draugr was the very meaning of evil. Everything about it reeked of death- from its skeletal appearance to the vicious looking axe it carried in its wilted, clawed hand. Its breathing rattled as it turned its head to face them. With a small shriek of fright, A'jira let go of her bowstring. The arrow whipped through the air and buried itself in the Draugr's scrawny neck. Faenlor dashed forward to stand beside her and fired as well, striking the creature directly in the heart. With trembling fingers, A'jira notched another arrow to her bow, stretched back the string, and fired. The third arrow was too much for the Draugr to survive- it pitched back onto the floor and lay still.

Breathing hard, A'jira stood staring at the body. Faenlor gently placed a hand on her shoulder. 'You all right, lass?'

'Fine,' A'jira lied hoarsely. She didn't know why she was so shaken. The whole thing was just so horrific- the tomb, the darkness, the Draugr…

Faenlor bent over the body and tugged out their arrows, before pulling a few gold coins from a ragged pouch on the Draugr's belt. Tipping them into a coin purse at his belt, he straightened up and replaced his arrow in his quiver, holding A'jira's two out to her. 'Good shooting. I'll make an archer of you yet.'

A'jira forced a smile and took the arrows, reloading her bow in readiness. 'Let's keep going,' she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

Faenlor nodded and led the way into the next room. Like the other, it was lit by torches, so at least the elf could see. A'jira saw him quickly check the bodies on their slabs to make sure they weren't Draugr, before they moved on.

As they entered the next chamber, A'jira instantly knew, by some primeval instinct, that one of the corpses was a Draugr. Following the scent of death, she located it- just beginning to rise from its pallet, sword gripped in its hands. Her arrow found its mark in its chest, followed closely by Faenlor's, which scored a direct headshot. The Draugr died instantly, but another took its place. The thing faced them, and A'jira's fur prickled as its mouth opened. _'Fus RO DAH!' _

The words were in a rasping, hissing voice which was more like a gust of freezing winter wind than words. It was clearly some kind of spell or incantation, because at the sound of the words a blueish shockwave shot out from around the Draugr, sending A'jira staggering backwards and knocking Faenlor clean off his feet. Her carefully aimed shot went wonky and hit the Draugr's arm, rather than its heart, but it was at least a hit. Before the thing could cast the spell-thing again, Faenlor staggered up and threw his dagger, hitting the Draugr in the forehead. It died instantly.

'What was that thing?' A'jira gasped, moving forward to retrieve their arrows.

'That spell? I don't know. It seems to be some sort of Draugr magic. I've encountered Draugr that could do that before.'

A'jira's fur was still prickling. She somehow felt that there was something important about what she had just witnessed. However, she couldn't for the life of her figure out what it was. She put it out of her mind and busied herself with searching the dead Draugr, taking its money and their weapons. Uneasily, she suggested that they move on.

They emerged into a large, open hallway, with a large, circular door at the end. It appeared to have rotating discs with designs on them. A'jira approached it warily.

'It's a puzzle door,' Faenlor announced. 'The ancient Nords had a fondness for these. You see these indents here? We need to find the dragon claw that matches the door, before we can open it.'

A'jira turned in a full circle on the spot. Her sharp eyes saw something glinting in the torchlight in front of the door. It was a hand-shaped device made of silver, with long, wicked-looking talons. She picked it up and held it out to Faenlor. 'Might this be it?'

'That's the one.' Faenlor studied the symbols engraved on the palm of the claw. 'Dragon, wolf, hawk,' he muttered, approaching the door and starting to turn the discs so that each one of them showed the corresponding design to that shown on the claw. When the dragon symbol was at the top, with the wolf and the hawk beneath it, Faenlor inserted the claw into the door and twisted. The door slid downwards and disappeared. Faenlor nodded approvingly and tossed the claw aside. After a moment's hesitation, A'jira stooped and slipped it into her leather pouch. She might be able to sell it. She glanced back at the room, and something caught her eye.

'Faenlor,' she called. 'Come and look at this.'

The elf hurried to her side.

A'jira ran her hand along the carvings on the wall. They seemed to show a dragon battling a lone figure. The dragon's mouth was open, spewing fire, but its opponent seemed undeterred, aiming at it with a loaded bow. The next carving showed the dragon rearing up in pain, an arrow in its throat, with the archer standing next to it, poised and ready. The final image showed the dragon dead on the ground, its slayer standing on top of its spiny back. Swirling lines flowed from the dragon to the dragonslayer. A'jira looked closer, and was she imagining things? Or did the warrior standing victorious over the dragon have a tail?

'What do you think this is meant to mean?' A'jira asked.

Faenlor studied the pictures. 'I think it's representing the so-called Dragonborn. They say that the Dragonborn was the only one who could kill a dragon. The legends are very garbled, you know.'

'I think the carving shows a Khajiit,' A'jira said. 'Look. I think that's a tail.'

Faenlor chuckled. 'The Dragonborn was a Nord, A'jira. That's just a line a bit out of place.'

'I guess so,' A'jira said doubtfully. It definitely looked like a Khajiit to her.

Faenlor was examining the other carvings. 'These ones with the Dragonborn- if that's what it is- are much newer than the rest,' he mused. 'They're hardly worn at all, whereas the others are almost impossible to make out.'

A'jira looked upwards at another set of newish carvings. There was what looked like an Argonian in a cage, with a Khajiit standing next to it, hands on the door, as if it was setting the Argonian free. A pair of dragons attacked each other in the air, their twin jets of fire meeting. A blurred figure rode on the back of a dragon. The carvings were meticulously made, without a scale, horn or hair out of place. The final one showed a Khajiit and an Argonian standing together, facing each other, their hands clasped tenderly together in front of them, while a dragon reared up behind them, head raised into the air, sending out a jet of flame, wings outstretched behind the two figures in front of it.

'Are you coming, are are you going to look at those things all day?' Faenlor called impatiently from the doorway.

'Coming,' A'jira sighed, wresting her eyes away from the figures. She had an awful feeling that she'd missed something. Something important. She just couldn't put her talon on what it was.

'Faenlor,' she called. 'Tell me more about the Dragonborn.'

Confused, the elf turned back to her. 'Why?'

'I don't know. I just have this feeling that it's important.'

'Well, legend says, that nobody could kill a dragon apart from the Dragonborn. That's all there is to it, really.'

'There must be more than that. Didn't a Dragonborn have some sort of special dragon magic, or something?'

Faenlor frowned. 'They say that the Dragonborn had power over nature. He could make fire, ice and storms do his bidding, and bend wild animals to his will. But that's all stories. Anyone could do that, with the right spells.'

A'jira shook her head slightly. Her whiskers twitched. She could see the sense in what Faenlor was saying, but still… she couldn't shake the feeling that something, somewhere, was very, very wrong.

She turned, and, with a flick of her tail, followed Faenlor further into the darkness.

* * *

**Please review! **

**Yes, Faenlor knows practically nothing about the Dragonborn. There is a reason. Just wait and see. **


	3. Living Legend

Chapter Three- Living Legend

Date: 8th of Sun's Height

Location: Ulfgard

'Draugr!' Faenlor gave the limp corpse at his feet a contemptuous kick. 'If I ever see another one, it'll be too soon.'

'I'll second that,' A'jira growled. She gritted her teeth and, with a small gasp of pain, yanked the arrow from her arm. She quickly downed a healing potion and sighed with relief as she felt the wound mend. She dropped the empty bottle and busied herself with looting the dead Draugr. The bow clasped in its lifeless hand wasn't as good as hers, but she was worried that the Jarl would take her one back when- if- they returned to Whiterun, so she took it and the arrows, as well as the few gold coins it carried. 'Do you know how much further it is?'

'Can't be much further. We've been here for half an hour or more,' Faenlor said with a shrug, also sipping a health potion. 'And we've been going downwards all the time. We must be nearly at the heart of the tomb.'

'What happens if we don't find the Jarl's sword?' A'jira asked nervously.

'It won't matter. We've found enough loot on these Draugr to pay for a new one twice over,' Faenlor assured her.

A'jira nodded. 'Onwards and downwards, then?'

'Onwards and downwards,' her companion chuckled, getting to his feet.

As they pushed aside the creaky door into the next chamber, A'jira gave a gasp. They had emerged into a huge cave, four or maybe five times the height of Dragonsreach. An underground river, black as ebony, wound through the centre. The walls were lined with coffins- most of them empty or demolished. The path they were following led up to a stone wall covered in strange, outlandish writing. A small area on the wall glowed bright blue.

'What do you suppose that it?' A'jira whispered, pointing.

'I don't know. I've seen some of them before in Nordic tombs. I think they're important to the Draugr, because they attack you when you go too close.'

A'jira tipped her head on one side. 'Do you hear that?'

Faenlor frowned. 'Hear what?'

'That! Like… somebody chanting.'

Faenlor shook his head in bewilderment. 'I can't hear a thing.'

A'jira started to creep forwards. The sound was ringing in her ears- the definite sound of someone or something intoning foreign words in an echoing voice. In fact, it was as if several people were repeating the words. Her ears angled towards the sound. There was no doubt about it- it was coming from the wall.

'It's that wall,' she hissed. 'That's what's making the sound. You must be able to hear it! It's everywhere!'

The Bosmer's eyes narrowed. 'A'jira, there's nothing. Khajiit ears are better than elven ears, but not _that _much better.'

'No, it's there.' A'jira didn't understand why Faenlor couldn't hear it, but she knew she was not imagining things. She warily approached the wall.

'A'jira! Get back! You go near that thing, and all the Draugr in the tomb will attack us!'

'Isn't that what we want? You said one of them might have the sword,' A'jira snapped. She was determined to get to that wall. The chant grew louder as she got nearer. It was emanating from the part of the wall that was shining. She stepped up to the wall's foot and looked at the symbols. A small cluster of them were emanating a pale blue light.

As she stood there, she felt something rushing around her, like a cold breeze. Her fur ruffled. The world seemed to shrink around her, until nothing existed except for her and the glowing word. Then suddenly her head seemed to be filled with a thousand voices, whispering the same word, a word which she couldn't understand. _Fus._

'A'jira! _A'jira! _Behind you!'

A'jira couldn't move. She was fixed on the spot by the river of light that surrounded her. Then suddenly the light was gone, the word was gone, and a huge Draugr was clambering from a coffin behind her, a magnificent sword in its hand.

A'jira only had to look at it once before she knew it was the Jarl's sword. Nobody else could afford a sword so beautiful and well-made. She loosed an arrow, but the Draugr brought up its shield to block it. Faenlor was more lucky, striking perfectly in the Draugr's back.

'Stay where you are! We've got it trapped between us,' Faenlor shouted, firing a second time. The Draugr turned to face him and A'jira quickly fired two shots at its back.

'It's a Draugr Wight,' the Bosmer called, ducking behind a boulder as the thing swung its sword at him. 'Better than the normal ones. Stay out of the range of its sword, and we should be fine.'

_Easier said than done, _A'jira thought, leaping on top of the empty coffin to get a better shot. The arrow bounced of the Wight's helmet and drew its attention towards her. It turned with a hiss. _'Dir volaan! Sovngarde Saraan!'* _it hissed menacingly, and though A'jira didn't have a clue what it meant, it sent a chill down her spine.

'Same to you, ugly!' she retorted rudely, focusing on the unarmoured spot at its neck. Her arrow whipped through the air and hit its mark. The Draugr uttered an awful scream and collapsed to the floor, dropping its sword. A'jira ran over to it and kicked the weapon out of its reach.

'If you're lucky enough to go to Sovngarde, which I doubt, then tell them that A'jira Tygra sent you!' she snapped, firing a final arrow into its skull. It slumped, dead in an instant.

'Nicely done,' Faenlor said with a smile. He pulled their arrows from the body. 'Liked the touch about Sovngarde. Very adventurer-ish.'

A'jira grinned. 'I thought it was quite good.'

The elf frowned. 'But what were you doing so close to the wall? I told you it was dangerous to go so near.' He picked up the Jarl's sword as he spoke and tucked it into his belt.

'I just… I just felt like I had to. Do you know what _fus _means?'

'_Fus_? Haven't a clue. Why?'

'When I went over to the wall, all these lights came out of the marks that were glowing. When they went around me, I heard that word in my head. I was wondering if you might know why.'

'I saw the lights. But I didn't hear anything. I've been up to loads of these walls and nothing like that's ever happened to me,' Faenlor shrugged.

A'jira's ears twitched, as they always did when she was ill at ease. Something was going on, something important, and she was certain that three things were part of it: the carvings in the puzzle door room, the word _fus_, and her.

If Faenlor noticed her uneasiness, he decided not to comment on it. 'Come on. We've got what we came here for. These tombs often have a back entrance. Best look around for a lever or something.'

A'jra soon spotted one, hidden in a shadowed corner. She was about to yank it down when Faenlor shouted, 'Stop!'

A'jira froze, her hand hovering over the lever.

'Look at these pillars.' Faenlor waved his hand at three small pillars with pictures on the sides. 'That lever's probably booby-trapped. We need to find the right pattern of pillars before we use the lever.'

'Brilliant,' A'jira sighed. That was just typical. Why couldn't the ancient Nords have made access to their tombs easy? Couldn't they have taken a little consideration into account for the adventurers of the future? No, they put up booby-traps and walls that glow and whisper strange words into your ear.

Since there was no obvious way to find the answer except through trial and error, they took it in turns creating random patterns and pulling the lever, then darting back quickly before they were hit by the arrows that came shooting out of the wall. After the fourth try, A'jira stood back and thought.

'I don't think we're going about this the right way. There must be a more methodical way than this.'

'Hmm? Well, what's your suggestion?'

A'jira scanned the room. 'There! See those pictures on that wall?'

'No, I don't.'

'About two metres up from that huge boulder.'

'No. I can't see in the dark, remember?'

'I thought elves were meant to have good eyesight.'

'We do. It's just that Khajiit eyes are better.'

'Well, there's three pictures. A dragon, a man, a wolf. I think that's the order that we need.'

'But the pictures on the pillar are a hawk, a fish and a snake.'

A'jira frowned. Then it came to her in a flash. She dashed over to the pillars and spun them round- hawk, snake, fish. She yanked the lever. The massive boulder shivered, then slid aside, revealing a tunnel. Her fur ruffled in the lightest of breezes that floated down it.

'How in Oblivion did you work that out?' Faenlor stared at her in amazement.

'Dragons kill men, and men kill wolves. It's like a food chain. Hawks kill snakes, and snakes kill fish.'

'Do hawks kill snakes?'

'They do in Elsweyr. Haven't you ever heard of the snake-catching hawk?' **

'I can't say that I have.'

'Hardly matters. It worked, didn't it?'

'It did indeed work,' Faenlor admitted.

'Then let's go. I've had enough of this place to last me a lifetime.'

The tunnel was so narrow that they had to stoop to get through, and go in single file. A'jira led the way, and Faenlor followed behind, carrying a torch he'd taken from a holder on the wall.

'Is Elsweyr a pun?' the Bomser asked after about three minutes of steady, cramped climbing upwards.

'A pun? What do you mean?'

'Elsweyr. It sounds like elsewhere.'

A'jira laughed. 'I never thought of that. I don't think it was intentional. It probably means something in Ta'agra, but I wouldn't know. All I know is that _khaj _is 'desert' and _iit _means where you live, hence Khajiit. Oh, and I read somewhere that _A _is 'daughter' and _jira _is 'someone who fights'. So I guess my name means daughter of a warrior.' ***

Faenlor raised his eyebrows. 'You seem to be a pretty able fighter yourself.'

A'jira looked at him in surprise. 'You think so?'

His face creased in a sympathetic smile. 'A'jira, not many untrained youngsters could venture into a Nordic burial site and come out alive. I've met warriors with twice your years and thrice your abilities who feared to enter them.'

A'jira looked at him with even greater surprise. 'Really?'

Faenlor chuckled. 'Yes, really. I don't speak for the pleasure of hearing my own voice, not like some people nowadays.'

A'jira's ears twitched slightly. 'I'm not exactly courageous or anything, you know.'

'Yes, you are.'

'I'm not.'

'Were you scared fighting those Draugr?'

A'jira nodded ashamedly.

'Did it stop you?'

'I guess not.'

'Then that was true courage. There's a difference between fearlessness and courage, A'jira, and very few people realise it. Fearlessness is the absence of fear. Courage is facing up to your fears. Fearlessness is foolish. Courage is a virtue that can move nations to follow your commands.'

'I'm not sure I want nations to follow my commands.'

She couldn't see Faenlor's face, but she heard his chuckle echo through the dark.

Her whiskers suddenly were blown back against her face. She gasped, hardly daring to believe it. Yes, she could feel the wind. It was strong and fresh against her fur. Surprising how much she'd missed it in the few hours she'd been in Ulfgard. 'We're nearly out,' she called to Faenlor, and she heard him murmur a prayer of thanks.

She sniffed the air as she increased her speed, half walking, half running along the tunnel. The breeze smelt of the sky and pine forests, of snow and dewdrops on grass and- A'jira stopped for a moment and breathed in. There was no doubt about it. The air smelt of fire. She frowned, but then shook her head and continued along the tunnel. She was being silly. Faenlor was right behind her, holding a torch. She was just getting her scents confused, that was all.

She rounded the next corner and breathed a sigh of relief. Daylight flooded her vision, and she had to blink a few times to get used to the sudden glare. She dashed forward into the open air, standing for a few moments in the entrance, soaking up the sunlight, letting its warmness seep into her grey tabby fur. She let out a drowsy purr.

'Can you move, please? You're blocking the way out.'

'Sorry.' A'jira moved aside and Faenlor scrambled out of the tunnel, looking as relieved as she felt to be out of the ruin. He dowsed his torch and threw it aside. 'Now, where are we?'

They were standing at the very edge of a woodland. A'jira scanned the landscape, but didn't recognise it. 'Haven't a clue.'

Faenlor's brow creased thoughtfully. 'I think we're at the edge of the woods surrounding Ulfgard. Whiterun's directly ahead of us. We'd be able to see it, if not for this mist.'

A'jira squinted through the silver cloud. 'I think I can just make it out.'

'Good. You wait here. I'll go back and fetch Summer.' The elf nodded to her and darted into the trees to find his horse.

A'jira sat down on a fallen tree, her back to the plains behind her, folding her tail over her legs. She fiddled absently with her bowstring. They'd done it; they'd gone into Ulfgard, defeated the Draugr, retrieved the Jarl's sword and got out alive. So why was she so uneasy? Why was her fur still prickling, in the way it only did when something was wrong? She breathed in sharply, the smoky air tart and sour. What had she overlooked? Was it something about those carvings? No, though they had unsettled her, this feeling of anxiousness was definitely caused by something else. What was it? She thought about the past few minutes. They'd emerged from the tunnel. Faenlor had put out his torch. He'd gone back to find Summer. Nothing about that was particularly unusual.

Wait.

_Faenlor had put out his torch._

A'jira got to her feet. She breathed in the air again. No doubt about it. She started to shake slightly.

If Faenlor's torch had been extinguished, how come the air still smelt of burning?

Unsure why she was doing it, A'jira loaded her bow and drew back the string a little way, ready to fire at a moment's notice. Danger was everywhere- she could almost smell it. Any moment now, something terrible was going to happen.

A twig snapped.

A'jira spun around, ready to fire, then relaxed as Faenlor emerged from the trees, leading Summer. 'A'jira? What are you doing?'

'Faenlor, do you smell that?'

'Oh, not again! A'jira, I'm sick of you hearing voices that aren't there and smelling things that aren't there-'

'No, really. Can you smell that?'

Faenlor shrugged. 'Fire. What's so strange about that?'

'You've put out your torch. So what's burning?'

The elf sighed. 'A'jira, it's probably just smoke from some hunter's cooking fire drifting on the wind. There's nothing to be worried about.'

'Yes, there is,' A'jira insisted. 'I don't know how I know, but I just have this feeling that there's something wrong-'

A'jira suddenly realised that Faenlor was no longer listening. He was staring at the ground behind her. 'Troll's blood,' he murmured. 'What in Oblivion did that?'

A'jira turned round, and gasped.

The grass behind her was scorched and blackened, burned to a crisp. The destroyed area was a wonky circle, far too uniform to have been made from a simple out-of-control fire. In the centre of the seared grass lay a limp, unmoving body.

The elk had died horribly, its face twisted into a last, desperate scream of pain and terror that nobody would ever hear. One antler was splintered, as if something huge had stamped on it, and its fur was charred and smouldering. Whatever had killed it had not even taken a bite out of it. It was untouched- no blood at all. The killer had not killed to eat. It had killed purely for fun.

A'jira approached it warily. Its wide eyes were full of fear, even in death, and the way it lay, sprawled out on the grass as if trying to run, spoke of a battle impossible to win. 'I don't understand,' A'jira whispered. 'What would do something like this?'

'Nothing good,' Faenlor said grimly. 'We need to clear out of here. Now.'

'I completely agree with you,' A'jira nodded, 'but you may not have realised that we only have one horse.'

Faenlor looked at Summer, who was grazing on what little grass was not burned to a cinder, and swore quietly. 'Well, let's put everything apart from our armour and weapons into her saddlebags. That'll make us faster if we need to run.'

A'jira nodded in agreement and started pulling the various different weapons she'd taken from the dead Draugr. Stuffing them into the leather bag fixed to Summer's saddle and untying her coin purse from her belt, she glanced anxiously at the horizon. Nothing there. Maybe whatever had killed the elk had been satisfied with its kill and decided to leave. She hoped so.

Something roared in the woodlands.

'What was that?' A'jira's paw flew to her bow.

'Probably a sabre cat,' Faenlor said calmly, but his eyes showed that he didn't believe it any more than A'jira did.

'Sabre cats don't roar that loudly.'

'What else could it have been?'

Summer gave a nervous whinny. Faenlor stroked her face gently in an attempt to calm her down. 'Could've been a bear, too,' he added.

'Bears aren't that loud either. And they don't set fire to grass. And they eat elk if they kill them. They don't just leave them lying around. And bears don't-' A'jira broke off. She let out a small scream, clapping her paws to her mouth.

'A'jira?' Faenlor looked at her worriedly.

Trembling with fear, A'jira brought her paws away from her mouth and pointed to the clouds. 'And bears don't fly.'

Faenlor turned and saw what she was pointing at. His face turned pale.

With another ear-splitting roar, the creature landed on the grass. Its brown scales glinted in the sunlight. Its bat-like wings spread out against the ground. A'jira squealed and sent an arrow flying into its neck, but the creature did not appear to even feel it. It was like a gnat biting a mammoth. Huge teeth as long as her hand dripped with saliva. Blood-stained talons just as long and deadly dug into the earth. Its eyes locked with A'jira's, and it was like looking into the eyes of death itself. Barely able to believe what she was seeing, she whispered the word that had sprung to mind the moment she saw it.

'Dragon…'

But that couldn't be. They were dead. The Dragonborn had killed them all.

The dragon's mouth opened. '_YOL TOOR SHUL!'_

Instantly, everything was fire. Flame spewed from the dragon's mouth, heading towards A'jira's head. She cried out and ducked behind the nearest tree. The searing heat of the flames made her fur damp with sweat. The tree burst into flame and A'jira leaped away from it, rolling on the grass to put out any fire that had caught on her fur. She scrambled to her feet, breathing hard. This couldn't be happening. Couldn't.

'A'jira!' Faenlor's shout brought her running to his side. His armour was coated in what looked like burn marks, but he was unharmed. 'Are you all right?' he asked.

'I- yeah,' A'jira panted. 'Where is it?'

Faenlor nodded towards the sky. 'It flew up. I think it's circling us before it attacks again.'

A'jira readied her bow. 'I thought dragons were just legends.'

Faenlor's eyes narrowed. 'So did I.'

With a roar, the dragon swept back into their line of sight. Its massive wings beat against the air as it looked down at them. _'FO KRAH DIIN!'_

A'jira had been expecting more fire, but what swept over her was a blizzard of snow and frost. She felt as if she had been thrown into icy water. Again, she darted aside, using her lightning-fast reflexes to throw herself behind another tree before she could be badly hurt. She took careful aim and fired at the huge shape between the trees. Her arrow drove into its eye, and it gave a roar of pain. She saw it dive to the ground and lunge forwards Faenlor cried out in agony. Then the dust was blown from the grass as the dragon's wings opened again, propelling it into the air.

A'jira raced out from behind the tree. Faenlor lay groaning on the grass. Blood was running down the steel plate on his right leg. He tried to stand, but instantly fell down. A'jira dug into her pockets for healing potions, but there were none. She remembered that all her gear was in Summer's saddlebags. She spun around and spotted the palomino mare cowering behind a rock. Despite the terror coursing through her blood, A'jira had to admire the horse's refusal to leave her master, even when a dragon was trying to kill them all. She dashed over, wrenched open the saddlebags, and gave a cry of horror. No potions. Not in either of them. Where were they? Then A'jira noticed the holes in the bags. They were too small for anything but the tiny vials of potion to slip through, so all their gear was there but the things that A'jira needed most. She went down on her paws and knees, scouring the ground for them, but all she found was a few shards of shattered glass, the precious potion they had once contained seeping into the earth.

The young Khajiit turned and ran back to Faenlor. The Bosmer was reaching for the Jarl's sword, which lay on the grass by his side.

'Faenlor-'

'No potions, huh? Ah, well. I had a good life.'

'Faenlor-' A'jira said again, feeling foolish.

'A'jira. Take the sword. Take Summer. Get out of here.'

'No! I can't just leave you here with that thing!'

'Yes, you can. Now do it.' Faenlor pressed the Jarl's blade into her hand. 'Quickly, before the dragon comes back. Tell the Jarl it was an honour to serve him.'

'I'm not leaving.'

'Go! That's an order, A'jira! I'm of no use to you now. Not with this leg. You've still got a chance. Take it. Go.'

For a moment A'jira stayed still, frozen to the spot with shock. Then sense took over her. 'Thank you,' she whispered, though she wasn't sure what for, and raced for Summer, who was still behind the boulder. A'jira leaped into the saddle with a single jump and turned the mare towards Whiterun. Her heels dug into Summer's sides, and the horse broke into a canter.

'_YOL TOOR SHUL!'_

She heard the dragon's shrieking roar behind her, heard the hiss and twang of Faenlor's bow. Almost sobbing with fright, she urged on her steed. 'Run, Summer, run. Run like you've never run before…'

And Summer ran, but not fast enough.

She heard it before she saw it, its bellowing roar ripping the air apart. She looked up and stifled a scream. The dragon was heading directly towards her. How had it got in front of her?

It was a different dragon, that was how. This one's scales were blood-red, while the first one was pale brown. She was trapped between the two of them. She dropped the reins and reached for her bow, ready to go down fighting, like Faenlor, but the dragon didn't even glance at her. It swept over her head and collided head on with the brown dragon.

As A'jira watched in astonished amazement, the two dragons rose into the air, lashing at each other with teeth, talons and tails, each roaring furiously at the other.

'_Mirmulnir! __Nivahriin ufiik! Mu nis krii ek, fin kaas kiir! Rek los faal dovahkiin!' _the red dragon screeched.

'_Rek los fin hokoran do dov! Rek fen dir!' _bellowed the brown one.

'_Nid! Zu'u ek vahriin wah ek! YOL TOOR SHUL!' _

A'jira didn't wait to see which of them won the fight. She wheeled Summer around to face the distant form of Whiterun, a smudge of the horizon, and breathed into the horse's ear. 'Go!'

Summer went.

Behind her, the shrieks and roars of the two battling dragons echoed and re-echoed around the plain, as A'jira made her escape. Fire and frost seared through the air behind her, painting the sky orange and white. As she kicked on her mount, A'jira could only form one clear thought.

_The legends are real._

* * *

***You might find this being yelled at you when fighting Draugr. It means, 'Die quickly! Sovngarde awaits!'**

** **I don't know about hawks, but there are definitely species of eagle in certain rainforests (Madagascar, I think) that kill and eat them. Please don't argue with A'jira… I haven't exactly **_**been **_**to Elsweyr.**

*** **Yes, I know, another footnote. Sorry. Anyway, for those who don't know, Ta'agra is the Khajiiti language. Khajiit really does mean desert dwellers or something like that, but I haven't a clue whether A'jira really does mean what she says it does.**

* * *

**I spent ages translating the conversation between the two dragons into dragon language. I think it's accurate. I don't want to tell you what it means yet (spoilers) but I will in a different chapter.**

**Please review, it's so encouraging. **


	4. Blood and Fire

Chapter Four- Blood and Fire

Date: 8th of Sun's Height

Location: Whiterun

Shaana had run the Whiterun stables for six years, but never in all her life had she seen anything like the young female Khajiit cantering towards her now. Her steel armour was covered in sooty black smudges, her tabby fur was singed in places, and her horse's coat was streaked with mud, dust and blood. Moreover, both horse and rider had a look of complete and utter terror in their eyes. The redguard woman's eyes narrowed suspiciously as the Khajiit reached her and dismounted, thrusting the reins into Shaana's hands.

'You're that cat that went out with the Jarl's housecarl, aren't you? Could you please explain why my Naril turned up a few hours ago without a rider?'

'Got scared… Draugr… don't ask,' the Khajiit panted, leaning against Summer's flank, completely out of breath. 'Look after Summer… got to speak to the Jarl.'

Shaana placed her hands on her hips. 'Oh, have you? And where exactly is this horse's owner? Faenlor was always very choosy about who rides his horse.'

The Khajiit girl swallowed hard. 'Faenlor… he…' She shook her head slightly. 'Look, I've got to speak to the Jarl. Just… just look after the horse, will you?'

'I don't think much of your manners, my girl! And you know full well you cats aren't allowed in the city-'

'Except on important business. And if the retrieval of his sword, the death of his housecarl, and an attack by a dragon isn't important business, then I don't know what is!'

'Attack by a drag-' Shaana broke of the sentence, realising that the Khajiit was already gone.

A'jira's breath came in short, sharp bursts as she raced up the path to Whiterun. As she neared the gates, the guard drew their swords and crossed them in front of her, blocking her path. 'Halt! Your race is forbidden here,' one of them commanded.

A'jira would have liked nothing more but to draw her bow and shoot him through the head, but she somehow didn't think it would go down very well. 'I'm on business for the Jarl. Look, I've brought back his sword.'

The other guard nodded. 'Ah, yes, you're the one that went out with Faenlor. In you go, then.'

A'jira nodded her thanks and stepped through the gates.

'You know, I used to be an adventurer like you,' the first guard sighed wistfully. 'Then I-'

'Yes, Hiden, you took an arrow to the knee, I know,' the second guard groaned. 'Do you have to tell every single person who comes through this gate that? Nobody actually wants to know, you realise.'

Hiden looked offended. A'jira ignored them both and dashed into the city, passing the curious residents who turned to stare as she flashed by.

'Hey! You, cat! Where are you going?' someone shouted.

'Atmora!' A'jira replied tersely, not stopping to see who had called to her. *

'What?'

'Mind your own business!'

In less than a minute she was at Dragonsreach. The guards, again, stopped her with their swords.

'Let me guess, someone stole your sweetroll?' one of them said, sounding as bored as it was possible to be.

'I have to talk to the Jarl.'

'Oh, it's you. Did you get that sword? Where's Faenlor?'

'That's the Jarl's business, not yours.'

The two guards glanced at each other, then stood aside. A'jira pushed open the doors and raced up the hall, skidding to a halt on the slippery floor in front of the Jarl's throne.

'A'jira!' Brandor beamed at her. 'I see you have my sword. A good job done, my young friend.'

A'jira held the weapon out to him, looking at the floor. How was she going to tell the Jarl that his housecarl was almost certainly dead?

'Where's Faenlor?'

A'jira had been trying not to cry all the way back to the city, and now she could hold back her tears no longer. Her amber eyes grew wet. 'I'm sorry, my lord… he's dead.'

Silence, except for the mournful song of the wind.

Brandor stared at her in horror. 'No,' he whispered. 'No, that can't be true. Surely you're mistaken. All the Draugr in Skyrim couldn't defeat Faenlor.'

'It… it wasn't the Draugr. We came out of the tomb and got attacked-' A'jira looked up at the Jarl's shocked face. 'Please tell me you won't think I'm mad.'

'Why would I think you mad?'

'Because we were attacked by a dragon.'

There was dead silence in the hall. Then the Jarl's steward, a tall Breton with a permanent frown, stepped forward. 'A dragon, Khajiit? You are sure of this?'

'Sure? Of course I'm sure, you smooth-skin fool!' She used the old Khajiit term for someone who is not a Khajiit. 'It nearly burnt as both alive! Faenlor was wounded… he told me to save myself and take the sword and come back here. I tried to save him, but there were no potions, and then the other dragon came…' The words broke like sobs from her throat. Unable to go on, she buried her face in her paws, trying to brush away her frightened, angry tears before the Jarl or his steward noticed them.

'Leave her be, Medwin,' the Jarl commanded the Breton. 'I can see the truth on her face. If she says that Faenlor was killed by a dragon, I believe her.'

A'jira swallowed painfully. 'I'm sorry, my lord. I really did try to stop the dragon.'

'I know. I am sure that Faenlor knew what he was doing. If he thought that your life was more important than his, then I am nobody to question his decision.'

A'jira's tail drooped onto the floor. 'My life isn't worth more than his was. He was brave and noble and respected. He was everything I'm not.'

Brandor stood up and placed a hand on her shoulder. A'jira looked up into his stern grey eyes. 'A'jira, listen to me. Let nobody, nobody at all, tell you that you are not brave, noble and respected. Not even yourself.'

'I think you misjudge me, my lord.'

'I think you misjudge yourself.'

A'jira heard Medwin snort in amusement.

'You are not weak or second-best, A'jira. No matter how badly you and your people are treated, you alone of all the Khajiit I have met have not turned so bitter that all that is left of your life is anger. So many of your kind have gone that way, but not you. You were not afraid to go into Ulfgard. You did not run from the Draugr. You even escaped a dragon. Have the people who call you cat and mistreat you because of your race ever done anything like the things you have done?'

A'jira felt a sudden burst of warmth inside her. Was there a faint hope that the Jarl might be right? Was what he said true? Was that really how he saw her? Could other people be made to see her that way too? She struggled for a moment with her own tongue, unsure of what to say.

'Thank you,' she whispered at last.

Brandor smiled. 'Go and get some rest, young one. I will send out the guards to deal with this dragon, if it is still around.'

'But, Jarl Brandor.' One of the guards stepped forward. 'Forgive me, but don't the legends say that only a dragonborn can kill a dragon?'

Brandor's face showed a mixture of impatience and amusement. 'They do indeed, but they are only legends.'

'But, my lord, aren't all legends built on the truth?'

The Jarl got to his feet. 'I'm sure that long ago there was somebody so good at killing dragons that people made stories about him that said that only he could kill them. They are just stories. Now, A'jira, go with Medwin. He'll find you somewhere to sleep.'

A'jira nodded gratefully. Medwin gestured for her to follow him. She had taken a few steps after him, when something made her hesitate. An image of Faenlor, begging her to leave him and save herself sprang into her mind. She stopped dead. Her ears flattened and her tail began to lash.

'No,' she said quietly.

'I'm sorry?' Brandor asked, looking perplexed.

'No,' A'jira repeated, more loudly. 'I'm going with the guards. I want to avenge Faenlor. I can lead your men to where the dragon was. Please, let me go with them.'

'Out of the question. You're tired, and you're hurt.' Medwin frowned dismissively.

_Hurt? Am I? _A'jira suddenly noticed the impressive array of cuts and burns all over her. 'I don't care. You'll have to send me home tied up in a sack to stop me from going.'

There was another long silence. Then, after what seemed like a week, Brandor nodded his assent. 'I see you are not to be dissuaded. Very well. You may accompany my men to slay this dragon.'

_Yes! _'A'jira clenched her fists in triumphant joy. Out of vengeance for Faenlor, who had been so brave and had helped her to believe in herself, she would fight till her last breath to defeat his killer. She knew, with a firm and definite certainty, that either she or the dragon would not return from this battle. She would avenge her friend, or she would die trying.

* * *

'Here.' A'jira stepped cautiously towards the blackened grass. 'This is the place.'

The captain of the guards drew his sword. 'So, where is the dragon?'

'I don't know. It might not still be here.' But even as A'jira said the words, she knew that they were not true. The dragon was here. She could feel it.

'Talos!' One of the guards- the arrow-in-the-knee guy, bent down and ran a few blades of burnt grass through his fingers. 'The stories weren't exaggerating when they told about how deadly dragon fire is.'

'You can say that again,' another agreed. 'Look at that elk.' He pointed to the poor creature, still lying splayed out on the scorched ground.

A'jira turned in a circle, eyes fixed on the sky. _Where are you, you cowardly beast? _she shouted at it mentally. _Come and face me!_

Suddenly something caught her eyes. Slowly, dreading what she would see, she turned her face towards it. Her breath caught in her throat. She raced forward, half hoping that she was mistaken, that her eyes had been playing tricks on her. But they had not. She fell to her knees.

Faenlor lay stretched out where he had fallen, his green eyes half closed and devoid of life. His hands rested on his bow, and an arrow lay leaning against the gentle curve of the weapon, as if he had been drawing back to fire at the moment of his death. His armour was coated with smears of blood and ash, and the metal over his chest was mangled and torn, as if it had been ripped away by talons. A huge, gaping wound, still oozing his life's blood into the earth, lay beneath the tear in his armour. In her mind's eye, A'jira saw the dragon land, saw Faenlor pull back his arm to fire one final shot, saw the huge, deadly paw swing through the air and rip at his armour and his flesh. The elf's cry of pain mingled with the dragon's roar of triumph as Faenlor crumpled lifeless to the ground, the arrow that would never be fired falling down beside him…

Wordlessly, A'jira reached out and closed Faenlor's eyes. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered.

The guard leader stepped up beside her and removed his yellow sash. Bending down, he gently placed it on Faenlor's chest, covering the ugly wound. 'We'll meet again in Sovngarde one day, brother,' he murmured. Straightening up, he looked at A'jira. 'The Jarl will be furious. Faenlor was his housecarl for many, many years, and he served him will and faithfully. We'll make that dragon pay for killing him.'

A'jira nodded, her ears flat against her head. 'But first, we need to find the dragon.' She hadn't told the guards about how she'd seen two. A fight like that could only end with one of them killing the other. And she felt in her bones that there was only one of them around. She hoped with all her heart that it was the brown one. That was the one that had injured Faenlor, and had almost certainly killed him.

'Where is it?' A'jira's tail swept from side to side. 'Where are you?' she called to the sky. 'Come and face me, you coward! _Face me!'_

'_Geh,_ _Dovahkiin! Zu bahlok fah hin sol, mal mey!'_

A'jira looked upwards instantly. The brown dragon was diving towards her, a look of greed and hunger stamped on its evil face. A mixture of rage, hatred and ferocious joy rose up within her. The beast had killed its last mortal. Now its day of doom had come! Now was the time; the time for it to die, the time to return Skyrim to safety, the time to prove to the world that she was not some pickpocketing, stealing, murdering Khajiit, but a warrior- just like Faenlor.

The dragon landed with a huge crash in the middle of the guards, who shrieked and scattered as a plume of dust rose up around it. Its head turned, seeking out A'jira. Its cruel, cold eyes locked onto hers. '_YOL TOOR SHUL!'_

Fire shot towards her, but A'jira had been expecting it and dropped to the ground, rolling away from the dragon's attack, firing an arrow at its ugly head as she went. She heard the dragon snarl as it hit. She scrambled to her feet and loosed a second arrow. 'Come on, dragon! Let's see what you can do against even odds! Only a coward attacks one who is injured and alone, as Faenlor was. Now prove your worth and fight us!'

'Gladly, _Dovahkiin,' _it snarled, spitting out the words in a voice laden with malice and triumph. 'You will die, like your friend the _fahliil, _and the _dov _shall honour me forever!'

'In your dreams, beast!' shouted the guard leader, swinging his sword at the creature's neck. It sunk into the flesh, sending a shower of blood droplets into the air. With a roar, the dragon turned to him and snapped at him with its vicious jaws, but the guard sidestepped and brought his sword down on the dragon's head. It made only a tiny cut, little more than a paper cut to the enormous beast, but the dragon was enraged. Taking to the air- sweeping them all backwards with the wind from its wings- it soared upwards, sending another bolt of fire than incinerated one of the guards where he stood. A'jira took careful aim and fired. The arrow soared upwards, striking the dragon's left forepaw. A howl of agony came from it, and as it landed again, it faced its attackers on three legs.

But not for nothing were the dragons called the most dangerous beasts ever to walk on Nirn. They were not just huge, and they were not just strong. They were not just fire-breathing. They were clever. They possessed something that other beasts did not have- imagination.

When the dragon shouted _'YOL TOOR SHUL!' _for the third time, A'jira ducked, expecting to feel the searing heat of the flames come shooting over her head. But instead, the dragon turned its head to the side, and the river of fire transfixed a pine tree. It went up in flames in a moment, and the fire leaped along to the next tree. Within seconds a quarter of the wood was ablaze. A'jira hurdled burning branches on the ground and ducked under flaming boughs as she raced out onto the plains. _It's drawing us out into the open! _she thought in horror. There, they had no trees to duck and hide behind. The dragon could pick them off, one by one. And if the inferno spread to the plains grass… she shivered, despite the heat. They would never be able to outrun the flames.

And then she heard a voice from afar. Not the voice of the brown dragon- it was somehow less harsh and wrathful- but a dragon, nonetheless.

'_FO KRAH DIIN!'_

Instantly the flames were extinguished as ice and frost lanced from the sky. A'jira looked wildly around for the second dragon, but it was hidden from view by the smoke and steam. She heard wingbeats high above, and a voice shouting, 'Fight, _Dovahkiin, _fight!' Then the sound of wings faded away and A'jira stood still and alone in the middle of the frozen forest.

A roar came from behind her. The brown dragon was in the air again. Its eyes burned with fury as it shot straight towards her. There was no avoiding it. There was no blocking the attack. She had to meet it, head on.

By her feet lay the charred remains of the guard who had been first to fall. His sword was clasped in his hand. Feeling as if she were in a dream, A'jira bent down, snatched up the blade, and held it up in front of her as the dragon dived downwards. In the space of a single second it was pointing upwards. The dragon realised too late it was not flying at some defenceless mortal but at a swordpoint. It flew straight into the weapon. A'jira gasped as it penetrated the creature's thick, scaly hide. She pushed upwards, burying the blade up to the hilt. Then she released it and threw herself aside.

The surviving guards came running from all directions as the dragon reared up, wings outspread, a wordless scream of agony screeching from its mouth. Then it fell, fell like a thunderbolt, like a hunting eagle, to the ground, sending up a cloud of dust, ash and snow. It gave a final whimpering moan- like a beaten dog- twitched twice, and lay limp.

Cautiously, warily, A'jira approached the body. She walked slowly up to it, and prodded it with the tip of her bow. The dragon didn't stir.

It was over.

The guards broke into cheers of delight and triumph, punching the air with their weapons and their fists. A'jira's ears lifted up from her head, and her tail, which had been whipping from side to side, finally became still. A purr broke from her throat as she looked at the unmoving form of her conquered foe. She had done it. She had killed a dragon. Faenlor could go to Sovngarde in peace, knowing that his killer no longer lived. And A'jira had been the one to win this battle- her, and no other. She raised her bow into the air and let out a victorious, jubilant caterwaul, her amber eyes glinting with delight.

And then she saw the flames.

It was as if the dragon's body had ignited. Bits of its flesh seemed to smoulder, like the embers of an old fire. Pieces of its body seemed to rise, glowing, into the air, and as the invisible fire seared along the dragon's corpse, more and more burning fragments soared upwards. For a few moments the whole body of the dead best was ablaze with a fire brighter and stronger than anything A'jira had ever seen before in her life. It consumed the flesh and scales of the dragon, leaving nothing but the skeleton. And still the ember-like particles floated into the air.

Then light started to flow from the dragon's body. Rivers of pure light, shining brighter than the sun, emerged from the corpse, winding and weaving their way through the air. They gushed forwards- and flew straight towards A'jira.

As they entered her body, the young Khajiit gasped at the raw power that they carried. Such awesome supremacy! It flowed into her, clouding her mind. All she could see was the shining glow of the river of light. Voices chanted in her brain. Suddenly, it was as if there were two minds in her brain. One was her own. The other was the mind of the downed dragon.

Rage. That was all that was in the dragon's brain. Rage so strong it could destroy an entire world. Rage and hatred and fury and malice, and a bitter, driving will to destroy all living things that were not part of its own kind. For a few, terrible seconds, it completely engulfed A'jira, just as the fire had engulfed the dead dragon's corpse. All she knew was the mad, blinding wrath of a dragon.

And then, as suddenly as it had come, it was gone. The dragon mind was snatched away from hers, and all that was left was A'jira. It was as if she had been pulled out from a river in which she had been drowning. Yet part of that rage and power still remained inside her. She felt like herself again, but stronger than she had ever been before.

Panting, she looked up. The guards were staring at her, open-mouthed. 'What… what was that?' one of them whispered.

'What just happened?' another gasped.

A'jira looked at them, as lost for words as they were. Then one of the guards stepped forwards.

'Dragonborn,' he whispered.

A'jira felt as if the world had been pulled out from under her feet, and she was falling, falling through the empty void of space.

'No,' she whispered hoarsely.

'You must be,' the guard insisted.

'No,' A'jira said again. 'I… I can't be.'

'You killed the dragon. And then you… did whatever you did.'

'I don't know what I did. There was just all this light…' A'jira looked nervously at the other guards, hoping that they might offer an explanation. But it was clear that no answers were forthcoming.

'Garmund?' A'jira guessed this was the name of the guard captain, because it was he that the guard turned to. 'What do you think?'

Garmund stroked his chin thoughtfully. 'We'd better return to Dragonsreach. We need to tell the Jarl about this… maybe he'll know.'

'The Jarl never believed in the Dragonborn. He thought it was all just bedtime stories for kids.'

'Yes, I know. But we've seen the proof with our own eyes,' Garmund shrugged.

A'jira shook her head. 'But… I can't be.'

'What other explanation could there be?'

'I don't know!' Suddenly A'jira was angry. 'All I know is that when the dragon died, part of it came into me. I don't know if that makes me a dragonborn. Half the people I've spoken to don't even know what a dragonborn is!'

'Nobody really knows,' Garmund replied. 'It's as if it's been wiped from history, apart from in legends. There isn't a book to be found on the subject from one end of the land to the other.'

'Exactly. So before you start making me into some hero, let's make sure I actually am dragonborn!' A'jira's whiskers were twitching.

'Why are you so reluctant to accept it?' The guard folded his arms. 'It's a good thing. It means you can kill dragons.'

'I… I'm not some sort of hero!' A'jira burst out. 'I'm just an ordinary girl. I'm nothing special or important. I'm nobody!'

'The Jarl doesn't believe that you're nobody,' Garmund frowned, though the gesture was hidden behind his helmet. 'Faenlor didn't believe you're nobody. We don't believe that you're nobody. And neither should you.'

'Look,' the arrow-to-the-knee guard insisted, pointing at the skeleton. 'Dead dragon. Who killed it? _You did.'_

'That was just luck.'

'No, that was some of the most amazing fighting I've ever seen. How many of us do you think could have stood in the path of a diving dragon?'

'I didn't exactly have much choice,' A'jira mumbled, looking at the ground.

'There's always a choice. If it had been me, I'd have run for my life,' Garmund growled.

A'jira felt the fight drain out of her, leaving only confusion. 'All right,' she relented. 'Dragonborn until proven normal, then.'

The guards nodded, muttering assent. A'jira returned her bow to its holder, only realising then that she'd been gripping it so tightly that her knuckles had turned white underneath her pale grey fur. As the guards dispersed to examine the dragon, A'jira stood where she was, staring at the sky.

_Could I really be Dragonborn? _she thought. _And if I am, what does it mean? What happened to me when all those lights came into me? Am I really the only person in all of Tamriel who can kill dragons? Are there more of them than this one and the one I saw earlier? And if so… am I the only one who can fight them?_

_So many questions,_ she realised grimly as she went to join the others. _And nowhere near enough answers._

* * *

***Another continent on Nirn, to the north of Skyrim. This is where the Nords originally came from.**

* * *

**Hmm, a dragonborn discovering their true identity while killing a dragon with Whiterun guards? Does this sound familiar at all? Again, there is a reason why this so closely mirrors the game, and again, you'll just have to wait and see! **

'_**Geh, **__**Dovahkiin! Zu bahlok fah hin sol, mal mey,' **_**as said by the dragon in this chapter, means, loosely, 'Yes, Dragonborn! I hunger for your blood, little fool.'**

**Please review! Next chapter will come soon as possible.**


	5. Hero's Return

Chapter Five- Hero's Return

Location: Whiterun

Date: 8th of Sun's Height

It was a sombre and silent procession that made its way back to Whiterun as the evening light began to fade. In the lead walked A'jira, refusing to meet anyone's eyes, the tip of her tail twitching. Garmund followed, sword drawn in case there was still danger lurking out on the plains. Behind them came four guards bearing a roughly made platform of lashed-together branches, on which they carried the lifeless bodies of Faenlor and the two Whiterun guards who had died in the battle. Then came the rest of the troop, with two at the back lugging a heavy sack they had filled with scales and bones from the dead dragon, as proof of their victory.

A'jira had not spoken since they had set out, despite Garmund's persistent attempts to engage her in conversation. Instead, she had fixed her faze on the ground, all her attention focused on simply putting one weary foot in front of the other. Her tail brushed against the ground as she kept walking, ignoring the guards' questions, replying only with nods, shakes of her head and the occasional 'mmm.'

She was in shock. In the space of a few seconds her life had been turned upside down and inside out. One moment, she had been A'jira- a normal and ordinary and _safe _Khajiit girl, and the next she was expected to be the dragonborn, to be some sort of hero. Just because she'd been covered in weird light when she killed a dragon. It didn't make sense. How could she be dragonborn? She had never seen a dragon before in her life before she'd left Ulfgard with Faenlor. And now, without warning, she was meant to be the only person on Nirn who could kill them.

And then there was that other dragon. The red dragon. The one that had attacked the brown one and, therefore, let her get away. Without it, she would have been killed for sure. She was almost certain that it was the same one that had put out the fire with its frosty breath during the fight. Why would a dragon save her life? Twice, in fact? It didn't make any sense. Why did nothing make sense?

And then there were those carvings on the walls of the puzzle door room in Ulfgard. Faenlor had said that they had shown the dragonborn. That image of the warrior standing over a dead dragon, lines flowing between the two, seemed to be the same thing that had happened to her. With every step she took, with every thought that flew through her mind, she was more and more certain that she was this so-called dragonborn, this lost hero of old, the one who was supposed to kill dragons. She was convinced that the carvings _had _shown a Khajiit, despite Faenlor's insistence that the dragonborn had been a Nord. So those carvings hadn't been about the past- they had been about the future. They had been about her. A prophecy.

Those other pictures, the ones surrounding the one depicting her- if it was depicting her, and she was almost certain that it was- what were they foretelling? A battle between two dragons. She'd witnessed that already- the fight between the red and brown dragons. A Khajiit freeing an Argonian from a cage. She had never met an Argonian- at least, never one that she had been on speaking terms with. So this was going to happen at some point in her future. It was frightening to think that someone, or something, long, long ago, had known exactly what was going to happen to her life. She had always thought that she would choose where the path of her life would lead. She'd been wrong. She hadn't chosen this. It had chosen her.

Another of the carvings, she remembered, had been a figure riding a dragon. As far as she knew, the only dragon to ever allow a mortal onto their back had been Odahviing, while helping the dragonborn to find Alduin. So was this a remembrance of the past or a premonition of the future? She hadn't been able to make out the race of the blurred smudge that was the rider. It could have been anyone. And, now she thought about it, though she hadn't given it much thought at the time, there had been another blob on the dragon's back. Two people, then, unless it had just been some sloppy chisel work. Was she really destined to ride a dragon? And if so, who was the other who would ride it with her?

And the final image… an Argonian and a Khajiit standing together, holding hands, a dragon in the background. What was that supposed to mean? It was clear that she was going to meet an Argonian, but who, and where, and why? Would they be her friend of her enemy? No matter how much she tried to find answers, she kept on getting more questions.

'A'jira.' Garmund tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention. She looked up for the first time in half an hour, taking in the gates of Whiterun with her tired eyes.

'We're here,' Garmund reminded her gently.

The guards carrying the wooden platform laid it down on the ground. The two men on duty guarding the gate ran forward. 'Gods, no,' one of them cried, upon seeing the three bodies.

'Is that Sroldin? And Hjoldur?' The second guard took off his helmet and shook his head sadly, looking at his fallen comrades. 'We'd better inform Sroldin's family. They'll be devastated.'

'Did Hjoldur have any relations?'

'He has a cousin in Windhelm, but I don't think they ever spoke much.'

'All right. Take their bodies into the guardhouse for now, and fetch Sroldin's wife. Send a courier to Hjoldur's cousin in Windhelm. We'll take Faenlor to the Jarl.'

The guards nodded and gently lifted their dead friends from the platform. Bearing them on their shoulders, they carried them out of sight. A'jira heard one of them quietly weeping, and felt as if someone had gripped her heart in their hand. If the guards were this upset about the deaths of their fellow warriors, how was the Jarl going to react to seeing the body of the one who had served as his housecarl for so many years? She had known Faenlor for a day, maybe even less, and she felt as if her insides had been ripped out by his death. She didn't want to imagine what the Jarl was going to say, even though he already knew of Faenlor's death.

She felt shame build up inside her like a great wave that threatened to swamp her. Why had she survived when Faenlor had been killed? As the guards made to pick up the platform again, she stepped up to them. 'Let me carry him too,' she said quietly. 'He saved my life. I must at least do this for him.'

The guards hesitated, glancing at Garmund for help. He nodded. 'She has the right.'

A'jira bent down and heaved the heavy object onto her left shoulder, the other guards taking up their positions too. The gates opened and they made their way into the city. Curious faces turned towards them as they passed, but A'jira ignored them. As the weight of her burden pressed down on her, A'jira realised it was not the only burden she had to bear. She would carry with her for the rest of her life the burden of Faenlor's death, and the new, unexpected burden of being Dragonborn.

As they approached the door to Dragonsreach, it swung open to reveal the Jarl. A'jira and her companions laid down the platform, stepping aside to allow Brandor to approach the body.

Wordlessly, the Jarl knelt down beside his dead housecarl. A'jira saw tears glistening in his grey eyes, though he was too composed to let them fall. Still without speaking, he removed his crown and laid it on the ground. In unison, A'jira and the guards of Whiterun reached up and pulled their helmets from their heads. None of them were imprudent enough to interrupt the Jarl's grief.

Finally the Jarl rose to his feet. 'Farewell, brother,' he murmured to Faenlor. Then he turned to the guards. 'Take him to the burial ground behind the palace. Tommorrow, we shall give him his last rites, and commend his spirit to Sovngarde.'

'Um- my lord?' A'jira didn't like to speak out at such a moment, but her curiosity overcame her. 'I thought Sovngarde was for Nords.' *

'It is for the honoured dead,' the Jarl replied simply. 'And Faenlor shall be honoured for centuries to come.' He frowned. 'But now is not the time for grieving. Is the dragon slain?'

'It is,' Garmund said with a nod. 'A'jira defeated it.'

'Indeed?' The Jarl turned to A'jira with surprise. 'All by herself?'

'We helped,' one guard said, 'but she was the one who killed it.'

Brandor's face broke into a smile. 'I knew that you were a true warrior from the moment I first saw you. Whiterun is in your debt.'

'There's something else you need to know.' Garmund glanced at A'jira, as if seeking her permission. She nodded, and the guard leader dipped his head and stepped forwards. 'We think that A'jira may be dragonborn.'

Apart from the screech of a hunting eagle high above, there was no sound. The Jarl's intense grey gaze scoured A'jira, and she looked at the ground, unable to meet his eyes.

'There is no such thing as a dragonborn,' he said at last.

'There are dragonborns, and A'jira is one of them,' Garmund insisted. 'When the dragon died, it was like it caught fire. The fire turned into a sort of river of light and flowed straight into A'jira, leaving only the dragon's skeleton left. Look, we'll prove it,' he added, beckoning the sack-bearing guards to come forward. They did so, opening the bag. The Jarl peered at the bones and scales inside, and frowned.

'Well, A'jira?' He looked at her. 'What do you think? Do you believe you are a dragonborn?'

'I don't believe I am _a _dragonborn,' she replied steadily. 'I believe I am _the _dragonborn. I absorbed something from that dragon- I don't know what, but it was powerful. It's still in me. I can feel it. And… there were carvings on the walls in Ulfgard. Faenlor said they were of the dragonborn of old, but when I looked closer, I saw that the figure he said was the dragonborn had a tail. Like a Khajiit.' She took a deep breath. 'I don't think it was a commemoration of the last dragonborn at all, but a prophecy about a dragonborn yet to come. Me.'

The Jarl's frown deepened and he folded his arms. 'I've never believed in those old stories of dragonborns. But then, I've never actually believed in dragons.' He shrugged. 'But I don't know how it can be proved.'

'What about High Hrothgar?'

Everyone turned. It was the same guard who had originally said that A'jira was dragonborn. Looking unsure of himself, he explained, 'My great-uncle used to tell me about a sort of ancient cult that lived in this temple called High Hrothgar, on the Throat of the World. It could only be reached by climbing a path with seven thousand steps. The people who lived there were called Greybeards. They knew all about the dragonborn, and his powers. But about a hundred years after the dragonborn's death, they were attacked and killed by natives of Skyrim for telling lies about the dragonborn to benefit themselves.'

'If these Greybeards are dead, then how are they supposed to help me?' A'jira inquired, giving a frown that threatened to conquer the Jarl's.

The guard shrugged. 'Maybe there are still some left. Maybe they left some books behind or something. I don't know. But there's bound to be some answers up there. Nobody knew more about the dragonborn than they did.'

A spark of hope rose in A'jira. Maybe there was a way to find out what being dragonborn actually mean, after all. She nodded gratefully. 'Then that's where I'll go. I'll find the answers, or I'll die trying.'

* * *

'Go, friend, with our blessings, to Sovngarde, where your name shall be honoured in song for eons to come, as long as men have voices to sing.'

It was the day after their return to Whiterun. A'jira bowed her head as Faenlor was lowered into his final resting place by the Jarl and Medwin. The Wood Elf had no family. Only A'jira, the Jarl, Medwin, and a few other inhabitants of dragonsreach, such as the court wizard, were there to see him leave for the eternal realm.

'Go in peace, to the care of your ancestors. May you find eternal happiness among the land where those who are honoured by both the living and the dead live forevermore.'

The priest lowered his arms, and the small party gathered around the grave. Faenlor seemed somehow younger in death, weaker and more vulnerable. _That is because his soul and spirit are no longer in his body, _A'jira thought. _They are in Sovngarde now. Talos guide him, and receive him with honour.**_

'He was loyal through and through. Nobody could have wished for a better companion,' the Jarl said quietly. 'He was more than just my housecarl; he was my friend.'

'He never ran from battle, and he wished for nothing more than to serve Whiterun,' Medwin added. 'Of course, I argued with him at times, but I always knew I could trust him.'

'I only knew him for a short time,' A'jira whispered. 'But that short time was enough for him to help me trust myself like I had never trusted myself before, and then to sacrifice his own life to save mine. I will be in his debt forever. Farewell, Faenlor, my friend. You will never be forgotten.'

One by one, everyone said their piece to honour their fallen friend. As the court wizard thanked him for all the times he'd let him test his spells on him, the Jarl took A'jira aside.

'You blame yourself for his death, don't you?'

'Yes. Don't you?'

'Of course not. He knew what he was doing.'

'But he died because of me.'

'No, he died because of a dragon. He chose to save you out of his own free will. He wouldn't want you to stay depressed like this, A'jira. He gave you your life. Live it to the full.'

A'jira realised he was right. She bowed her head. 'Yes, my lord.'

He smiled at her. 'Now that I have lost Faenlor- may his soul be at peace- I'll be needing a new housecarl. Someone I know I can trust. How would you like to fill the position?'

A'jira's orange eyes widened in surprise. 'Me? Really?'

'Yes. You have shown true loyalty, intelligence and courage in everything you have done. Proving your innocence. Going into Ulfgard. Killing that dragon. I know that I would always feel safe with you watching my back.'

A'jira thought deep and hard. It was a promising offer, and she was honoured beyond belief to have been given it. But no. She had to find out if she really, truly was dragonborn, and what it meant if she was.

'That's a very generous offer, Jarl Brandor,' she replied slowly. 'But it's one I can't accept. If I am dragonborn- and I believe I am- my destiny lies elsewhere. I need to find out what it is. I feel as if I don't know who I am any more. And I have to know.'

Brandor smiled. 'I thought you would say that, but I wanted to ask, just in case. But remember, A'jira- there's always a home and a position for you here in Dragonsreach, should you need one.'

A'jira nodded and smiled to show her gratitude, but she didn't think she would ever take up the offer. For her, Whiterun was always going to be too full of ghosts.

'If I cannot get you to accept that,' the Jarl said, raising an eyebrow, 'then make any request that you wish to be granted. I'll make sure you're supplied with armour, supplies, a horse and weapons for your journey to High Hrothgar. Is there anything else you would like?'

A'jira's eyes narrowed, and again she thought hard. 'Anything' was a hard request to make. She would have asked for exactly the things the Jarl had promised to give her- armour, a bow and arrows, a horse. Then suddenly an idea occurred to her. But did she dare ask?

'I can have anything?' she said uncertainly.

'Anything. I owe a lot to you, A'jira. Name something that I can give to you, and I will give it.'

A'jira bit her lip. 'Then I ask for equality for my people.'

Brandor stared at her.

'For all people,' A'jira added. 'It isn't right that we should be looked down on as talking beasts. We're not allowed to enter cities. I wouldn't have even got into Whiterun the day I met you if I hadn't been able to bribe the guards. People look on us, they sneer at us and think of us as second-class citizens. They call us cats, when we are Khajiit, and no more are cats than you are mudcrabs. They think of us as murderers and thieves. Nobody looks at us and sees our good side. We'd be much more likely not to be the law-breakers everyone accuses us of being if we were treated the same as those who insult us. And it's not just the Khajiit- it's the Argonians, too, and the Dunmer, and the Orcs and… all people should be equal. If you want to ensure the loyalty of your people, my lord, then I suggest that you make things that way. Please.'

For a few seconds the Jarl simply kept staring. Then he smiled. 'I can see the sense in what you say. Very well. I will pass a law saying that all people must be treated as equals throughout my hold. It is the least I can do for you.'

'Thank you, Jarl Brandor,' A'jira said quietly, her smile too big for her face.

'So, what will you do now?' he asked.

'I'm going to make my way to this High Hrothgar place,' A'jira replied. 'I want to find out more about what it means to be dragonborn.'

Brandor nodded. 'Very well. I'll make sure you are prepared for the journey. Go with my blessing. Keep safe. Good luck. And A'jira-' He snapped of the sentence, looking uncertain.

'Yes, my lord?'

'I hope you find what you're looking for.'

* * *

The sun was at its zenith, shining bright and warm on the grassy plains. The river rushed by, unstopping and unyielding. Clouds as were sprinkled across the sky, as if Talos had taken a handful of newly fallen snow and scattered it across the heavens. Pale blue butterflies danced among the purple meadow flowers. Far, far away, A'jira saw the towering, snow-covered peak of the Throat of the World in the distance.

She was dressed in a set of scaled armour given to her by the Jarl. She far preferred it to the steel armour she had been given to go to Ulfgard- it was light and easy to move in. She had kept the elven bow that she'd had before, but the arrows were elven now as well, rather than steel. Best of all, the Jarl had granted her ownership of Summer, saying that Faenlor would have wanted her to take the mare. A'jira was glad- Summer had borne her away from certain death, and she felt she owed something to the horse.

The road wound onwards, into the woodlands. Summer snorted as an equistiley beautiful green butterfly landed on her nose for a fraction of a second. A'jira checked her map. If she followed the road to Riverwood, then travelled east to Ivarstead, she would come to the 7000 steps- the way to High Hrothgar. Nodding, she rolled up the parchment and stowed it in Summer's saddlebag- which had been repaired of its holes. She kicked her heels into Summer's sides and the mare gave a little whinny before breaking into a canter. Far away, wolves howled, but A'jira knew that Summer would be able to outrun them, if the need arose.

She didn't know what she expected to find at High Hrothgar, but she knew that she wanted answers- as quickly as possible. She looked back at the distant form of Whiterun, and smiled. It had been the start of her adventures, but she was glad to leave the place. Suddenly her life was filled with excitement and purpose- and she loved it. She turned Summer around and galloped onwards, into the woods.

_I am dragonborn, _she thought. _I am. I don't know what it means, or why fate chose me. But I know that I am. So now I have to find out what it means._

'Come on, Summer,' she murmured. 'Let's go and find my destiny.'

* * *

**This chapter is a little shorter than the rest… sorry about that, but it's making up for the next chapter which is going to be quite a bit longer, unless I run out of ideas.**

* * *

***OK, not sure about this. I've scoured the internet and still haven't got a definite answer. So here is how I am going to have it for the purposes of this story: Anyone who thinks of Skyrim as their home, and is honoured by people both during their life and after their death, can go to Sovngarde. This is because later in the story I want certain characters to be there that wouldn't be there if it was just for Nords.**

****Unlike most Khajiit, A'jira is a follower of Talos. This is because she was brought up in Skyrim by Nords, and so doesn't know anything apart from Nord beliefs.**


	6. Embers in the Snow

**I just had to fit M'aiq, who appears in this chapter, in here somewhere as he is one of my favourite people on the game. For those who don't know who he is, he's a character who randomly wanders around **_**Skyrim, Oblivion **_**and **_**Morrowind**_**, telling you useless information. The game makers put him in as an easter egg. He comments on things that weren't included in the series but people thought would be- such as his line about crossbows, which people wanted to be added to **_**Oblivion- '**__**Some people want special bows that take too long to load and need special arrows called bolts. M'aiq thinks they are idiots,' **_**or werebears, which might have been added to **_**Skyrim- 'Werebears? Where? Bears? Men that are bears?'**_

**Can I also apologize for my mistake in Chapter Four, where I stupidly said, '****A'jira took careful aim and fired. The arrow soared upwards, striking the dragon's left forepaw. A howl of agony came from it, and as it landed again, it faced its attackers on three legs.' If anybody noticed they were kind enough not to point it out, but dragons in Skyrim have two legs, not four. Sorry. I doubt anybody actually cares, but I'm a perfectionist.**

**Anyway, on with the story. I'd just like to say a BIG thank you to everyone who has read this, and an even bigger one to all those who have alerted and reviewed it.**

* * *

Chapter Six- Embers in the Snow

Date: 9th of Sun's Height

Location: Throat of the World

'Now that's a sight, isn't it, Summer?'

Summer and A'jira stood at the foot of the Throat of the World, staring up at its towering summit. It reared up into the heavens, almost too high for her to see, its snowy peak surrounded by billowing clouds of silver mist. Placing her paw on her forehead to keep the sun from her eyes as she looked, A'jira managed to make out the smudge that was High Hrothgar. It was impossibly high. A'jira didn't like to think about how long it was going to take to climb it. It was certain that she wouldn't make it to the top before the day was out.

With a shrug, she urged Summer forwards. She wanted to start on the famous seven thousand steps- although most people said it was nearer seven hundred- as soon as possible. That way, she'd finish as soon as possible. The sooner she got to High Hrothgar, the sooner she'd discover for real what it meant to be Dragonborn.

For the first time, she started to fantasize about what amazing and fantastical powers she might have. Maybe she was able to speak to and understand dragons. That would be useful. She could persuade them to leave Skyrim alone, if she was clever enough with her tongue. But no, she hadn't been able to understand what the two dragons had been roaring at each other when they'd fought. Faenlor had said something about controlling nature. Maybe she'd be able to breathe fire and frost like a dragon. She grinned, and, after looking around to make sure nobody was watching, concentrated on fire and exhaled as much air as she could. Nothing interesting happened. She shrugged and pressed Summer forward. Whatever the secrets were, she knew in her gut that they lay at the top of that mountain.

Suddenly she noticed that she had come to the first step. The first step of seven thousand. 'What do you say, Summer? Shall I be totally sad and count them?'

Summer whickered.

'All right. One. Two. Three.'

A laugh sounded from behind her. 'M'aiq once tried to number all the steps to High Hrothgar. So many, he lost count!'

A'jira turned around in surprise. A Khajiit dressed in the yellow-brown robes of a priest stood behind her, amusement written over his features. A'jira smiled at him. 'Greetings, friend.'

The Khajiit smiled back. 'And to you too, fellow desert walker. I am M'aiq. M'aiq's father was also called M'aiq, as was M'aiq's father's father. Or so his father said.'

A'jira dismounted so as to talk better, holding Summer's reins in case something startled her and she ran. 'I'm A'jira. Are you a priest, M'aiq?'

'A priest? No, not M'aiq.' He gave a throaty chuckle. 'M'aiq is a traveller and a teller.'

'A teller?'

'Indeed. M'aiq knows many things. Some he tells.'

'Could you tell me about High Hrothgar, then?' A'jira pointed up at the distant speck clinging to the side of the freezing mountain. Every time she looked at it, it seemed further and further away.

'High Hrothgar? Ah, yes, the old temple of the Bluebeards. It is only reachable by climbing twelve thousand steps, and even then, the door will not open unless the moons are full, the wind is in the west and it is M'aiq's birthday,' M'aiq replied, without batting an eyelid.

A'jira gave him a withering look.

M'aiq chuckled again. 'You must forgive M'aiq. He loves a joke.'

'Is it dangerous? The path to High Hrothgar?'

The 'teller' answered her question with another question. 'Does night follow day? Indeed it is dangerous. For once M'aiq does not lie. If you survive the wolves, then you must face the ice wraiths. And if you survive the ice wraiths, you must survive the frost trolls. That path is laced with danger. Even M'aiq, who has travelled to every corner of Tamriel, has never reached the top. But some day he will. Some day.'

A'jira shivered. 'Any advice on getting up there?'

'Run,' M'aiq answered simply, then added, 'as quickly as your steed can go. That is the only way that M'aiq thinks you will be able to get up there. But why would one want to ascend the Throat of the World? It is too dangerous, too unpredictable.'

'It's kind of complicated.' A'jira frowned. 'M'aiq, do you know anything about the dragons? Do you know why they're coming back?'

M'aiq nodded gravely. 'Indeed, M'aiq knows much about the dragons. They were never gone. They were just invisible, and very, very, quiet.'

A'jira frowned. She didn't think M'aiq had a very high regard for the truth. Harmless as he seemed, she didn't think he was going to be much help.

'If the Throat of the World is so dangerous, why are you here?'

The traveller looked down, his fur lying flat with acute embarrassment. 'M'aiq wishes to climb to the summit of the Throat of the World, and maybe see High Hrothgar for himself. But he knows he would die if he tried. So he is waiting here for a strong adventurer to climb the mountain and eliminate the dangers. He has been here for many moons, and still it has not been done. Recently a young mage came up the mountain path.' He paused. 'M'aiq does not like mages. Too much magic can be dangerous. M'aiq once had two spells and burned his sweetroll. But anyway… M'aiq warned him against trying to climb the Seven Thousand Steps. He did not listen. He went. He has not come back.'

A'jira's eyes widened. 'Do you have any idea what killed him? What's killing all of them?'

M'aiq hesitated. 'Of course there are the wraiths and trolls and wolves, and also bandits who seek easy prey. But often M'aiq has seen what looks like a flash of fire at the top of the mountain, or heard a strange bellow from the clouds. But that is all M'aiq knows. He does not know what it might be. Many a strong-looking warrior has attempted to climb this mountain. Never has M'aiq seen one return.' From the intense look in his eyes, A'jira could see that he was telling the truth.

A'jira's fur prickled. _Dragon, _she thought. 'How long have you seen the fire and heard the roaring?'

'For as long as M'aiq has been waiting here.'

Shock ripped through her body. She had suspected all along that there were more dragons than the two she had seen, but it appeared that they had been back for longer than she had thought. All of Skyrim was in terrible danger. She felt herself fill with purpose. If she truly was dragonborn, then it was her destiny to combat them.

'Well, then. I'm going to be the first to climb this mountain. I have to get to High Hrothgar. I'm dragonborn, M'aiq, and I need to find out what it means.'

'Dragonborn? Was it your mother or your father who was the dragon?' he chuckled.

A'jira rolled her eyes.

M'aiq shook his head. 'Is there any way that M'aiq could persuade you not to waste your life in trying to reach High Hrothgar?' he pleaded.

'No. Sorry. But thanks for the advice. And… I hope you get to the top one day.'

M'aiq smiled. 'Yes, M'aiq hopes so too. May you walk on warm sands.'

'And you, friend.' A'jira swung herself up onto Summer's back. 'Come on, girl,' she breathed, and Summer started to trot forwards, building up speed into a canter. Soon both horse and rider had vanished up the snowy trail, A'jira's voice echoing around the cliffs.

'Twenty seven! Twenty eight! Twenty nine! Thirty!'

For a time, M'aiq stood still, looking at the place where they had disappeared. Then he sadly shook his head. 'Another young one throws away their life. Brave she is, but foolish. Maybe it is time for M'aiq to leave this place. Too much sadness. Too much death.' He buried his face in his paws. 'M'aiq should have been able to stop her. But he could not. And now another adventurer rides away to their doom.'

* * *

'One thousand and thirty-five. One thousand and thirty six, one thousand and thirty seven… or is it thirty eight? Damn.'

A'jira shook her head and dismounted, counting the steps. She'd soon become incredibly bored, and numbering every one she passed had become the only form of entertainment. She'd now become slightly obsessed. She knew it was stupid, but it was also kind of fun.

'Definitley thirty-seven,' she decided finally. 'Come on, Summer.'

Just as she was about to mount again, her ears pricked and her fur stood on end. Her heart started to beat faster as a roar echoed over the mountain, a roar she recognised. It foretold death and destruction and a world of blood and fire. It seemed to mix a snarl and a growl and a scream and a bellow and the crash of thunder into one, deadly, terrifying sound.

A'jira let Summer's reins slide through her fingers. Her tail started to lash, and her ears flattened against her head. She gave a snarl and bared her teeth. 'Dragon,' she breathed.

A moment later she was moving, her new, tough, well-made boots gripping the rock as she ran like the wind towards the source of the noise. Fire flashed ahead of her as a second roar split the air. It was followed by a scream of pain, and a voice crying out in desperation. 'No more! I yield! I yie- aaargh!' The final, agonised screech of the victim was abruptly cut off as more flames leaped up from behind the rocks, not too far ahead of her now. All thoughts of counting the steps were forgotten as A'jira dashed onwards, readying her bow as she went, so driven with determination that even Summer, fast as she was, could not keep up. She heard the rush of wind that came with the dragon's wingbeats as it lifted itself into the air. With a roar, it flew in a circle before charging back down again, landing on a plateau where a group of people had made their camp. Their tents were ablaze, and the embers of their fire were scattered all over the ground, slowly dying in the snow. She saw a figure leap over the rocks and run backwards, readying a sword. She sniffed the air, picking up the confusing, mingling scents of fire, snow, and people. She drew in their scents. Mostly Nords, a few Redguards, a smattering of Dunmer and an orc or two. A pair of raggedy, vicious-looking dogs. A slight trace of the reptilian smell of an Argonian. No Khajiit. But more powerful than anything was the fiery scent of the dragon.

The thrill of battle flooded through her veins. She would show this dragon that it had reason to be afraid. It was fighting the dragonborn- the most legendary dragonslayer of all. Her eyes gleamed with excitement as she prepared to loose an arrow. This was the dragon that had killed those who had tried to reach High Hrothgar, she was sure. Well, it wasn't going to stop _her_ from getting there! She was in search of her destiny, and nothing- _nothing- _was going to stand in her way.

It hovered above her head and sent out a jet of flame. A'jira ducked, but the dragon was aiming at a male Nord who had been about to fire an arrow at it, not her. The flames burned the unfortunate man to a cinder where he stood. A'jira fired her own shot, but the dragon was quick. It twisted away from her attack and lashed out with its tail at a Redguard woman who had been charging at it, sword drawn. She was sent flying back against the rocks. There was an awful cracking noise as her bones shattered upon collision. She lay still and did not stir. A male Dunmer ran forward, his axe poised to strike, and the dragon pulled back its head, ready to slash open his chest with its teeth. A'jira's arrow found its mark in the dragon's upper jaw, and it drew back with a pained growl. It took to the air again, but soon landed again with a thud that sounded like a mountain falling down. Its eyes locked with A'jira's as she pulled back her bowstring to fire. It opened its mouth, but no fire came towards her. '_Dovahkiin,' _it hissed simply. Then it took to the air. A'jira expected it to attack again, but it did not. Instead, it swerved away around the side of the mountain, the tip of its tail soon disappearing behind the jagged cliffs.

_Over already? _A'jira felt her fur flatten with disappointment. The cowardly creature hadn't even had the guts to fight her. The battle-rage faded from her slowly, but it was with trepidation that she put away her bow. The dragon might well come back, and what's more, she was surrounded by strangers. They could be anybody.

But the Dunmer who she'd saved from the dragon gave her a friendly smile, his red eyes shining with warmth. 'Thanks, Khajiit. Would've died without you. That was some nice shooting.'

'My pleasure. Any time,' A'jira replied, wary, but trying to sound friendly.

A burly Nord, who appeared to be the leader of the group, glanced around at the others. 'How many have we lost?'

'Shiba, Kygor and Arnmund,' someone replied.

'Pity. They were good fighters. We'll bury them later. Who are you?' He turned around and snapped out the final sentence, looking fiercely at A'jira.

'My name's A'jira. A'jira Tygra.' A'jira looked at the gang of people surrounding her. There were about ten of them, with a fairly equal amount of both men and women. All wore hide armour with a mix of iron and hide helmets, and carried a wide array of weaponry, from bows to axes to swords to weird dagger-like objects she had no name for. All except the Dark Elf she had saved were staring at her with cold expressions, their whole bodies displaying their hostility. A'jira heard Summer whicker behind her and was glad she had an escape route if things got hairy.

'And what exactly are you doing here? This part of the mountain belongs to me and my fighters,' the Nord growled.

A'jira raised her hands slightly and made a 'calm down' gesture. 'I'm on my way to High Hrothgar. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. Say the word and I'll leave.'

'Come on, Hrogar.' The Dunmer gave a small shrug. 'There's no need to drive her away. She saved me from that dragon. Didn't you see?'

Hrogar stroked his chin thoughtfully. The horns on his iron helmet glinted in the light of the last few embers that were mixed in with the snow, making him look almost as deadly and threatening as the dragon he had been fighting only a few minutes earlier.

'Hrogar.' The elf sounded exasperated. 'She _saved _my _life.'_

Hrogar raised his eyebrows, as if to say, _oh really? _He gave A'jira what was clearly supposed to be a warm smile. 'You did, huh? Nice work. Why don't you share our fire for tonight- what's left of it, anyway,' he growled, looking at the scattered cinders. He clapped his hands at his group. 'Come on, you worthless lot. Let's get this fire going. We've got a guest tonight.'

There was an edge to his voice- something weird about the way he spoke- that made A'jira's pelt prickle with unease. She didn't trust this man. She didn't trust a single hair on his head. She didn't trust any of them. They started to scuttle around the camp, rebuilding the fire, and throwing snow over their flaming tents.

'Look at that!' exclaimed an orc, staring furiously at the tattered remains of his shelter. 'I made that myself. Ice wolf hide. Killed it myself, too. Slashed its throat to ribbons and used its pelt to make my tent. And now look! There's nothing left of it!'

'It'll mend,' the Dunmer said tiredly. 'I'm going to go check on the beast.'

'Sure, Ilien. Don't take too long,' Hrogar ordered.

'Beast?' A'jira asked, as Ilien jogged over to a large iron cage covered with a sheet of dirty cloth that might once have been white but was now the colour of a sabre cat's fur. He lifted it up and A'jira saw something move slightly within the cage. Ilien gave a nod and let the sheet drop again, obscuring whatever was in there.

'Found it climbing the mountains a few days ago. We, er, wanted to get it trained, like Fang and Snarl here, but it was too vicious.' Hrogar jerked his hand at the two dogs, which were lying by the fire, growling in their sleep. 'So we've locked it in the cage until we know what to do with it.'

'What sort of beast is it?' A'jira inquired.

She never got an answer, however, because a few of the group had just heaved a dead wild goat onto a spit and were starting to roast it above the fire, and Hrogar left to help. A'jira watched warily. Everything about this situation made her uneasy. Quite apart from the fact that there was a dragon hanging around somewhere, she was surrounded by people who were all armed and didn't seem friendly at all. Hrogar was a good actor, she'd give him that, but she could tell that she shouldn't trust him.

Ever since she'd been accused of that murder in Whiterun, what seemed like a thousand years ago, she'd been acting on instinct. Her instinct of avoiding trouble had been what led her to notice Ugmak's left-handedness. Instinct had kept her alive inside Ulfgard's dreary tombs. Instinct had helped her escape the dragon, and then destroy it. She had no friends by her side but Summer. She couldn't place her trust in anybody. She could only trust in herself and in her instincts. They were seldom wrong. And right now, they told her that none of these people could be trusted. Not one bit.

'Mead?'

A'jira was abruptly jerked out of her dark thoughts as a bottle was thrust under her nose. 'Oh- right. Ok. Thanks,' A'jira mumbled, taking it. She didn't drink mead. Or wine, for that matter.

'It's the best mead,' Hrogar informed her. 'From the Black-Briar Meadery in Riften. Anything they don't know about mead isn't worth knowing.'

A'jira sniffed the bottle suspiciously. A funny odour wafted into her mouth. The fur on her hackles instantly began to rise. This was not ordinary mead. She would have bet her tail and talons that it was drugged. She felt panic rise up within her, and she pushed it down angrily. Panicking got you nowhere. The best thing to do was to play along, and take them by surprise. She looked up, and saw that the eyes of the whole group of them were fixed on her. Battling with her nerves, she smiled and pretended to sip it. 'Mmm. Good stuff,' she smiled, trying to sound convincing.

As they turned back to the roasting goat, she didn't miss their grins of triumph. _Bandits, _she thought, _every one of them. So that's why nobody ever makes it to the top of this mountain. If it's not the dragon that gets them, it's this lot! Murdering scum!_

She knew she had to think fast. She had to act like she'd actually drunk the mead. She gave a fake yawn and lay back against the rocks. She heard one of the bandits- the female orc, she thought, though she couldn't be certain- snigger quietly. 'Sure does work quickly, doesn't it?' she hissed to Hrogar, in a voice that would have been too soft to hear, had A'jira not been a Khajiit.

'She'll be out for the count in seconds,' Hrogar grinned in reply.

_Oh, will I? _A'jira smirked inwardly. She closed her eyes, but kept her ears pricked, ready to move at the first sign of trouble.

After a minute or so, she heard someone whisper, 'Is she asleep yet?'

A'jira let out a somewhat convincing pretend snore.

Hrogar laughed with malevolent glee. 'She's asleep, all right.'

'Can I do the honours, chief?' the male orc asked eagerly. A'jira heard the sound of a knife being sharpened against a rock.

'I don't see why we have to kill her.' It was Ilien, the Dunmer. 'She did save me from getting turned into dragon food.'

'Don't be such a wimp,' someone growled. 'Look at her gear! I'd give my back teeth to have a bow like that.'

'Not to mention the armour,' another one added.

'And the horse,' a third chipped in.

'Plus, I bet that purse of hers is practically bursting at the seams,' Hrogar agreed.

'But she's a great fighter. You saw her against that dragon. Why can't we just ask her to join us?' Ilien protested.

'We went through that already once this week,' Hrogar snapped. 'And you know what happened. It got three of us killed. She's never going to join us. Look at her- she's so decent it's kind of scary.'

'Please let me kill her, Hrogar,' the orc pleaded.

'Sure, Mashag. Do it quickly, though. If she wakes up and gets that bow of hers out, I dread to think what's gonna happen.'

_Oh, for the love of Skooma… what in the name of Talos do I do now? _A'jira thought desperately. She had about a minute to make a move. She ran through a mental list of her options. One- run for it. Not likely to work. She could easily make it to Summer- the horse was only a few tail-lengths away- but she was almost guaranteed to get shot in the back as she ran. Two- fight. Also not good. She was outnumbered ten to one. Three- there wasn't a number three. She had two options and both of them were rubbish.

She heard the orc take a few paces towards her and knew she was out of thinking time. She tensed for a moment, then leaped to her feet, pulling her bow from its holder and reaching for an arrow. The orc jumped back in surprise, but then its eyes narrowed and it lunged in. A'jira let her arrow fly. The orc's thrust went wild as her shot hit home. He stiffened in shock, then fell to the ground, blood flowing from his wound and turning the snow scarlet.

She heard the female orc scream in horror. 'Mashag!' she wailed, running forwards towards the limp corpse. She never reached him. A'jira's second arrow found its mark in her neck. One of the two dogs leaped at A'jira as she prepared another shot, but she kicked out hard and her foot connected with its ribs, knocking it to the ground, where A'jira quickly finished it off.

The rest of the bandits rushed her, and A'jira turned to flee to where Summer stood, rearing up on her hind legs, her front hooves kicking viciously at the second dog, which fell with a howl as the mare shattered its skull. She leaped over the rocks and grabbed Summer's reins. She was just about to haul herself up when a hand clamped down on her shoulder. She tried to pull away, but Hrogar was far stronger, and she could not break his grip. Her bow slipped from her hands as he pulled her to the ground, standing over her with his sword raised.

'You're gonna pay for this,' he snarled, pulling back his arm, ready to strike. 'Die, you filthy cat_.'_

It happened without any warning. None at all.

One moment, A'jira was on the ground, eyes wide in terror as she stared up at the blade that was about to end her life. The next, her eyes were narrowed, her fur was bushed out, and the word was breaking from her throat.

She didn't know why she did it. Yet again, there was no thinking involved, just instinct. Pure rage, the rage of a dragon, took over her body. And she shouted the word at the top of her voice, even though she didn't have the slightest idea what it meant, or what she planned to achieve by shouting it.

'_FUS!'_

A blue shockwave burst out from her, just like it had burst out from the Draugr in Ulfgard. It cannoned into Hrogar with the force of a falling tree. He was sent stumbling backwards, his sword nearly ripped from his hand, giving A'jira time to leap to her feet and notch an arrow to her bow.

She took aim at Hrogar's chest. He didn't run. He just stared at her.

'What was that?' he hissed. 'What did you just do?'

She released the arrow, and he toppled backwards onto the earth, dead long before he hit the ground.

The bandits stared at her. Their eyes flicked from their dead leader, to A'jira, and back again.

Slowly, they started to back away.

'She's like the dragon,' one of them whispered. 'It shouted, and stuff happened. And she just did the same thing.'

'What are you?' another one snarled. 'You some sort of demon?'

'I don't know what she is and I don't care.' It was one of the Redguards who spoke. 'But I'm not hanging around to get an answer.'

With that, he turned and fled, running down the mountain path as fast as his feet could carry him. After a moment's hesitation, the rest of his band followed him, casting fearful looks as A'jira as they went. Soon only Ilien was left, staring at A'jira with scared eyes.

'I'm… I'm sorry,' he gasped. 'Really. I am.'

Then his nerve, too, broke, and he ran for his life.

A'jira sat back heavily onto the rocks. Her heart was hammering and her head was whirling, desperately trying to make sense of what had just happened. Summer trotted over to her and nudged her shoulder with her muzzle. A'jira smiled at her. 'We did it, Summer,' she murmured. 'We really did it.'

It was getting dark, and A'jira knew better than to try and get any further in the dark. She would have to stay here for the night. She glanced around to make sure that none of the bandits remained, and rose unsteadily to her feet. She allowed herself a small satisfied smile. She could have worse places to camp. The bandits had even made her a fire and a meal, and she had plenty of tents to choose from.

After dragging the bodies of those she had killed away from her camp, she sat down by the fire and started to eat some of the goat. It was clear that the bandits knew very little about cooking from the first bite, but she was so exhausted by the manic events of the day that she couldn't have cared less. Tossing the bones away, she gave a long sigh and stood up. She felt troubled. There was a sick feeling inside her, as if something sour was lodged in her stomach. For moment, she couldn't name the feeling, then suddenly she realised. Hrogar and the other bandits… they had been the first people she had ever killed.

She'd killed elk and goats. She'd killed Draugr. She'd killed a dragon. But somehow it wasn't the same as facing another person- someone who was just like her, if a little less furry- looking them in the eye, and killing them dead.

She knew that she was being stupid, knew that she'd had no other choice, but still… it just didn't feel right. One moment, Hrogar and the others had been alive, the next-

She shook her head. Feeling sorry for them would get her nowhere. They had tried to kill her; they didn't deserve her sympathy. And feeling sorry for herself wasn't going to her anywhere, either.

The night was really drawing in now, and though A'jira's night vision was near perfect, she knew that Skyrim's most dangerous creatures were the nocturnal ones. It was time to get into shelter before they started sniffing around. She wasn't sure thst going to sleep with nobody to watch her back was a good idea, but she was so tired…

She stood up, yawned, tethered Summer to a stunted, leafless tree and started to examine the tents of the bandits. Most had been reduced to cinders, but a few looked sturdy enough. She chose one and stepped inside. It was sparsely furnished, with a sleeping bag made from sewn-together animal hides and nothing else. She shrugged. Better than nothing.

She shrugged off her armour and weapons and stacked them neatly in a corner of the tent. _Better put out the fire before I go to sleep, _she thought. _Don't want to attract any unwanted attention._

A'jira backed out of the tent and started to walk over to the dying fire. Gathering up a few handfuls of snow, she threw them onto the glowing embers. Steam rose up in clouds from the cinders. A'jira stamped on the ashes until the last few sparks were extinguished.

Only then did she remember the iron cage.

She paused, staring across the camp at the dirty sheet that covered the metal prison. What could be in there? What sort of beast might it be? A sabre cat? Some sort of wolf? It hadn't made a sound all the time she'd been in the camp. For a moment, her inquisitive nature battled with her common sense. Then her curiosity overcame her and she stepped hesitantly up to the cage. She grasped the filthy cloth and pulled. It slipped down from the roof of the cage, falling to the ground to lie on the snow. A'jira took a deep breath, and looked into the cage.

For a moment, her heart stopped.

The occupant of the cage was not a beast. Some people, people like Hrogar and his band, might have called it that. But it wasn't. It wasn't even an _it_. It was a he.

It was an Argonian.

As A'jira stared at his limp form, several things became apparent instantly. He was a mage, judging by his apparel. He was about A'jira's own age. And he was mere inches from death. He lay on his back, eyes closed, and his scales, which must have once been a shining dark green, were dull and lustreless. His blue novice robes were streaked with dirt and blood, and his hands were tied behind his back, making it impossible to use spells. He didn't appear to be injured, so she guessed his condition was due to starvation and dehydration.

As she pulled out a lockpick to break into the cage, she suddenly froze. Without warning, a picture sprung to her mind- the carvings on the wall in Ulfgard. They had shown a Khajiit freeing an Argonian from a cage.

She was the Khajiit.

This was the Argonian.

He was part of her destiny.

Moving as if in a dream, she picked the lock within seconds and stepped inside the cage. 'Hello?' she called nervously, but the Argonian gave no sign that he had heard. Kneeling down, A'jira shook him gently. He gave a soft moan, but otherwise didn't react. A'jira grasped his tail, and, with a muttered apology, started to tug him out of his prison. His eyes didn't open as he fell out onto the snow-covered stones. He lay limp, as if he were already dead.

A'jira whistled to call Summer over to her. As she reached into the saddlebag, an image of Faenlor, lying bleeding on the grass while A'jira hunted desperately for a way to save him, pushed its way into her mind. Angrily, she shook her head as if to clear it and tugged out the strongest healing potion she could find. She wasn't going to let anyone else die because she couldn't cure them.

Dropping to her knees beside him, she slipped her arm around his shoulders and lifted his head. He didn't move. Desperate now, A'jira tugged his mouth open and uncorked the little vial of life-giving liquid. Grimacing at the awful smell of the stuff, she gently tipped the bottle until its contents started to trickle out. Little by little, A'jira poured the stuff into the Argonian's throat. Then she sat back on the stones and waited.

For a few seconds, the Argonian didn't stir, and A'jira's heart clenched as she realised she might have been too late. But then the potion started to do its work, and he let out a shaky breath, followed by a rasping cough. Gasping like a fish out of water, he pushed his upper body up off the ground. His eyes flickered open. They were bright green, like a pair of polished emeralds. He blinked a few times, looked around, and saw A'jira.

There was a pause.

'Hello,' A'jira said, not knowing what else to say.

The Argonian said nothing.

'I'm A'jira,' she added awkwardly, whiskers twitching.

The Argonian hesitated, looking up into her eyes. He blinked again, and ran a hand through the reddish-orange feathering on the top of his head. Then he opened his mouth, paused again, as if he wasn't sure this was a good idea, and spoke in a voice that sounded like wind stirring the needles of a pine tree on a warm summer's day.

'Zaran-Ra,' he whispered softly. 'My name is Zaran-Ra.'


	7. The Devourer

**This chapter is a sort of… interlude. It's going to be shorter than the others, and told from a different point of view. When it's finished, on to Part Two! Thanks for everyone who's read this far.**

**There is a female dragon in this chapter. I honestly don't know if there are any female dragons in Skyrim. Certainly all the ones I've encountered have been male. I just thought I'd add one for balance. All the other dragons written about here are ones created by the game.**

**The way that Alduin resurrects Sahloknir in this chapter is entirely mine. I have no idea if it would be actually possible (well, none of Skyrim is possible, but you know what I mean) but it's the only way I can think of.**

**I've put some of what Alduin says in English and some in dragon for effect, though of course he is actually always speaking in dragon. If you're having trouble, I've translated below.**

**Dragon language:**

**Joorre- mortals**

**Dovahkiin- oh, come on! You don't need me to translate that, surely!**

**Laaskriiah- Life kill hunter**

**Sahloknir- Phantom sky hunt**

**Krosis- sorrow**

**Thu'um- shout**

**Monahven- Throat of the World**

**Krii ek- kill her**

**Slen Tiid Vo- Flesh time undo- the 'ressurect dead dragon' shout**

**Dovah- dragon**

**Thuri- overlord. Often used by dragons to mean 'hail!'**

**Dream yol lok- peace fire sky, used as a greeting**

* * *

Chapter Seven- The Devourer

Location: Kynesgrove

Date: 9th of Sun's Height

Far, far below, the land that the _joorre _call Skyrim sprawls out beneath me. Mountains, rivers, forests, streams. All flash by in the space of a single second. All are beautiful beyond compare. And soon, they all will belong to me!

My children are arising. The _dovahkiin _may have taken their souls all those centuries ago. But now, I return them. Those fools who follow the leadership of the two traitors shall be sacrificed in order to raise those who are truly loyal. Today, Laaskriiah will die, and with her death, Sahloknir- one of my _true_ children- will be able to re-enter this realm!

They say that Mirmulnir was slain by mortals, in the place where the forests meet the plains. He was always a reckless one. He was the first to fall the first time; he is the first to fall again. Fate is… artistic. The _joorre _have a saying. They say that history repeats itself, because nobody listened the first time. They are right. They were foolish enough to forget the Dragonborn, and everything that was done to rid this land of me. And in doing so, they gave me a gateway to return.

When the _Dovahkiin _triumphed over me in Sovngarde, my body was destroyed, but my soul remained intact. Five hundred years I languished in shadows, my soul torn from my body, flitting from mortal to mortal in order to survive. The shame of existing inside a mortal body! It was almost too much to bear. But finally, I managed to implant my soul into the body of a necromancer. A necromancer who happened to be one of a cult that was trying to restore me to the mortal realm. They thought that bringing me back would give them eternal glory. They performed a rite which returned me to my true form. And as soon as I was once again myself, I killed them.

To feast again on mortal blood! To hear their cries as they ran in terror! To watch them fall to the ground and beg for mercy, only to find none! It gave me strength and the will to do what I had to do. I exist to destroy; therefore I will destroy. I will destroy and devour the souls of all those who dare to stand against me.

And the _dovahkiin… _I cannot pretend that there will not be another. If I have come again, so will the _dovahkiin, _of that I am sure. Whoever it is shall certainly be a threat. But whoever it is has not discovered who they are and what they can do yet. If they had, I would know. I would know.

I look down. We have arrived. I turn in the air to face Vuljotnaak and Viinturuth, who bear Laaskriiah between them in their talons. She fights against them with all her power, but she is not strong enough. And her wings are ripped almost to shreds. She cannot hope to fly. If she were to break free, she would fall to her doom. She knows that, as do her two carriers, who hold her as tightly as they can. If she were to die, then all our efforts would be wasted. I am not afraid to use one of them instead if they fail me now.

'We are here.' I arch my black-scaled neck and swoop down, circling the burial site a few times to make sure that this time there are no mortals in waiting. When I resurrected Sahloknir the first time, there were two mortals lying in wait- one of them the _dovahkiin. _I ordered Sahloknir to kill them, but they proved too strong even for him, _krosis,_ even though the dragonborn's Voice was not yet as strong as it was yet to become. Not this time, though. Not this time.

We are alone, so I signal to the others to land. They drop Laaskriiah before Sahloknir's tomb. She stumbles to her feet and bares her teeth at us, her tormentors, but we all know that her bravery is useless. She cannot fly. She is too weak to run or fight back. She can only wait for her end. And it is soon to come.

I land in front of Laaskriiah. She snarls, eyes glinting with rage. 'You think you can claim this world? Think again,' she growls, fury burning in every word.

'I do not think I can claim this world, fool,' I reply. I speak of course in the tongue of my people- I would not dirty my mouth with the bile that the mortals speak. 'I know that I can claim this world.'

'You are the fool,' she snaps back. 'You failed before. You will fail now.'

I claw the earth. 'I was rash, then. I underestimated the power of the dragonborn's _thu'um. _But I have learned my lesson. I am wiser for my defeat. Wise enough to take this land for my own!'

Laaskriiah's tail lashes. 'Don't you know who is discovering their true self even as we speak?'

My eyes narrow. 'Who?'

She lets out a mirthless laugh. 'Who? Can you not guess? The one who defeated you before. The one who will defeat you again. The one who will finally destroy you utterly and scatter your bones from here to the summit of the _Monahven! _The only one you ever feared! The one who will consume your soul for good! The _dovahkiin!'_

I give a roar to shake the mightiest of mountains to its foundations. 'Do not mention that hated name, betrayer!'

'You are the betrayer. We swore allegiance to the _dovahkiin_ after the battle in the land of the dead. The time of your tyranny was over, and we lived in peace and freedom without you! Now you force us to go against our promise. It shall do you no good. Have you not heard the prophecy?'

'Prophecy? What do I care for the prophecies of mortals?' My voice drips with derision. 'I can tell you the future, Laaskriiah.'

'Oh, yes?' she snarls scornfully.

'Yes,' I smile. 'You are about to die.'

'Then at least I will go to my death as a loyal dragon who never betrayed her true master!' she hisses.

Her defiance angers me. It does not feed the shadows of my heart to kill a victim who is brave and fearless to the last. I want her to beg, to plead for her life, to try to flee. But here she stands, bold as brass, facing her death without a trace of fear.

No matter. Whether she faces me as a furious, raging beast or as a pathetic, snivelling coward makes no difference. She will still die.

I turn to my two minions. 'Viinturuth, Vuljotnaak. _Krii ek.'_

'Kill me then, I do not fear death!' Laaskriiah laughs, but the final word is cut short as Viinturuth and Vuljotnaak lunge in, their teeth meeting in her throat. At the same moment, I turn to Sahloknir's tomb, and shout. 'SLEN TIID VO!'

The earth around the tomb breaks up at the same moment that Laaskriiah breathes her last. Timing is everything now, for this is the moment when I will either succeed or fail. My goal is for Laaskriiah's soul to be ripped from her body by the power of my _thu'um. _The shout alone cannot resurrect Sahloknir, for the dragonborn stole his soul after his death, five hundred years ago. But the shout shall find a replacement soul instead- Laaskriiah's. It shall be torn from her and given instead to Sahloknir.

Golden fire flashes from her body as she slumps to the ground. Her bronze-coloured scales and ebony-black spines begin to smoulder and burn. It is working. The very essence of her being rises into the air and shoots down into the earth, where the skeleton of Sahloknir lies.

This is the danger point. If Laaskriiah's soul is strong enough, it shall take over Sahloknir's body, and all my efforts will have been in vain. But that has only happened in the five times I have done this, and I have faith in Sahloknir's rage and power.

A roar of triumph comes from the broken ground. And then, with a burst of light and a powerful burst of air from his wings, Sahloknir explodes from his burial site and into the air. He is no longer a skeleton now, but a true _dovah, _restored to full life. He looks down upon me and gives a bellow of ferocious joy. 'Alduin, _thuri!'_

'_Drem yol lok, _Sahloknir!' I call back.

'I have returned!' he roars, eyes shining.

Yes, he has returned. My children will return. And the dragonborn? To Oblivion with the dragonborn! Once, long ago, mortals defeated me. But that was then. This is now. This time, I shall learn from the mistakes I made in the past. This time, I shall conquer this land for good! This time, I shall not fail!

* * *

END OF PART ONE


	8. High Hrothgar

**PART TWO- ZARAN-RA**

Chapter Eight- High Hrothgar

Location: Throat of the World

Date: 9th of Sun's Height

For a long, long moment, neither the Khajiit archer nor the Argonian mage moved. They simply stayed exactly where they were, not moving a fraction of an inch, staring into each other's eyes. Green into amber. Amber into green.

Then A'jira blinked and the moment was past. 'Zaran-Ra,' she murmured. 'That's a wonderful name.'

'Thank you.' The Argonian smiled slightly. 'In the language of my people, it means Walks-Through-Fire.'*

Unsteadily, he grasped the side of the iron cage and hauled himself to his feet. 'Ours is to smile at your passing, friend. I would be dead without you.'

A'jira's whiskers twitched in embarrassment. 'Please, don't mention it. It was an honour, Zaran-Ra. I could never have let a fellow creature die at the hands of those bandits.'

'I owe you a debt I can never repay,' was the quiet reply. 'You saved me from the jaws of death. My life is yours.' He spoke slightly hesitantly. A'jira wasn't certain whether it was because he was still in pain from his ordeal, or because he wasn't quite confident with the language he was speaking.

'You don't need to repay me. Those bandits were thieves, murderers and an insult to nature itself. I think I did all of Skyrim a favour by ridding her of them,' A'jira told him.

'Maybe, but if you had not come I would have starved to death in that cage. If there is anything I can do for you-'

'I didn't do it for a reward, Zaran-Ra. I did it because you needed my help,' A'jira insisted. _And because we were destined to meet, _she added silently.

Another pause; then the green-scaled face of her new friend twisted into a smile. 'Please, call me Zaran.'

A'jira returned the smile with pleasure. 'Zaran. Of course.'

Again, they stood looking at each other slightly awkwardly, until Zaran shivered and crossed over to the remains of the fire. 'The night is cold, and my scales do not keep it out as your fur does,' he remarked, kneeling down beside the sodden, snow-covered wood. 'Let me see if I can make us a fire.'

'I don't think you'll be able to get anything going with that,' A'jira said doubtfully. 'I can fetch you my tinderbox if you like-' She broke off as Zaran's hands burst into flame. For a moment, she was startled; then she remembered that he was a mage. They weren't very common in Skyrim, since most Nords preferred the use of axes and blades, but she had seen a few of them in her time. With his palms facing towards the wood, Zaran directed the flames at the embers of the fire. Within seconds, the wood started to burn.

'Very nice,' A'jira complimented his handiwork.

'Thank you. I could hardly call myself a mage if I could not make myself a decent fire, could I?' He chuckled and sat back, crossing his legs and wrapping his tail around them. A'jira followed his example.

'Are you from the College of Winterhold?' she asked. It was the only place she knew where mages were common.

'No, more is the pity. I wish very much to study there. There are no such colleges in Black Marsh, so when I expressed a wish to my parents to learn magic, they decided that I should go to Skyrim to enrol in the Winterhold College. My father's brother learned there and he is one of the best mages I know.'

A'jira frowned. 'But if you're on your way to Winterhold, what are you doing on the Throat of the World?'

Zaran's emerald eyes narrowed slightly. 'I could ask you the same question, friend… but I will tell you. As I passed by this mountain, I met a man of your kind, who warned me against approaching it. He said that it was a dangerous path from which I would never return if I should attempt to take it.'

'Oh, that would have been M'aiq,' A'jira laughed. 'I met him too.'

'M'aiq? Yes, that was the name I think he said he went by. He said I should not go, but the words 'perilous journey' and 'danger of death' drew me like a…' He paused, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right word. 'What do you call the night-time butterflies?'

'Moths?' A'jira suggested.

'… like a moth to a flame,' Zaran finished. 'Forgive me. I had to learn the language of Skyrim as well as its magic before I came here.'

'You're very good at it. I don't speak any other languages, not even that of my own people,' A'jira said.

Zaran shrugged. 'You may not be a linguist, but you are certainly an archer. You appear to have driven off an entire bandit gang by yourself.'

'Summer helped.' A'jria felt herself blushing and looked away. She didn't want to Zaran to think she was boastful.

Zaran shrugged a second time. 'So, what are you doing here?'

A'jira struggled with how much to tell him. She was certain that he was the Argonian depicted with her on the walls of the Ulfgard corridor. But whether she should tell him that was a different matter. But she would have to tell him about who… what… she thought she was. If she didn't tell him, he might not trust her.

'I'm on my way to High Hrothgar,' she explained, pointing out the distant temple. 'It's because of something that happened yesterday.'

'Indeed.' Zaran's gaze was measuring, as if he was deciding whether to trust her. Instantly A'jira decided to go to the very beginning and tell him everything- her entire life. She'd never told anyone before, but she knew that her destiny was inexplicably bound with Zaran's destiny. She needed him to trust her.

'I guess I'd better start from the beginning,' she said hesitantly. 'I mean, that's where most stories start.' She fingered the wooden amulet that held her name. 'I was found as a child by the side of the road to Riften by a travelling merchant. My parents were nowhere to be found, but there were no signs of a fight. I don't know what happened to them. I guess they were probably taken by bandits or something. So the merchant took me to the orphanage in Riften, and that was where I stayed until I was fourteen years old.'

She smiled as her old memories came flooding back to her. 'The orphanage was nice, but it was boring most of the time. We were taught by the orphanage owner, a Nord woman called Friedja. She was nice, but there was never anything to do. And I was the only Khajiit. The others were all Nords, Bretons, Imperials, and an elf or two. So I got picked on a fair bit.'

The rush of memories grew stronger. She remembered her paws pounding on the floor as she ran, the shouts and hoots of the other children behind her, the sudden pain in her tail as somebody grabbed it from behind and gave it a sharp tug, overbalancing her and pulling her onto the floor, the tears stinging her eyes as a fist connected with her stomach… She shook her head and continued. 'When I was fourteen, a new boy arrived. An Imperial called Clagius Clarento.' Her eyes narrowed. 'He hated Khajiit. Turned out his father had been assassinated by one. And the moment he saw me… it was total war.'

Her face was flushing as she spoke, and she was glad that her fur hid it from Zaran's intense green gaze. 'I never did anything bad to him, but he hated me all the same. Any opportunity he got to wind me up, put me down, or make me feel worthless, he'd take it. And the other kids were afraid of him, so they joined in rather than get picked on too. Even my old friends stopped helping me eventually.'

'By the Hist.' Zaran's voice was tense with anger and shock. 'Did nobody ever tell the adults?'

A'jira gave a laugh without a shred of amusement behind it. 'Clagius made it quite clear that anyone who did would have him to answer to. It wasn't long before things came to a head. Clagius and his little gang chased me into a corner and spent the next five minutes beating me up. After that, I decided I'd had enough. I didn't feel quite ready yet, but I wasn't staying in that place a moment longer. I asked Friedja if I could leave. She was surprised, but I told her I wanted to go and find a purpose in life, rather than just sitting around doing nothing and getting used as a punchbag- though I didn't mention the punchbag thing. She let me go.'

With a long sigh, A'jira buried her face in her paws. 'I was so excited. I couldn't wait to go out and live a real life. I thought I'd finally be judged for who I was, not for my race.' She laughed bitterly. 'I was wrong. It wasn't better outside the orphanage. It was worse.'

Angrily she kicked out at the ground, spraying snow into the air. 'People hate us. We can't be judged for ourselves, only for our race. People think of us as murderers and thieves. They never give us a chance. We're banned from entering cities. We can't marry Nords. We can't do anything without the law descending on our heads!'**

Zaran paused before speaking. 'I find that the Nords do not like my race much, either. I am allowed to enter cities, but the guards seem reluctant to let me. They call me lizard and all manner of far ruder things. They judge us because of our bestial appearance. I do not like it, but there is nothing to be done.'

A'jira nodded. 'Eventually I found myself with hardly any money. I bribed a guard to let me into Whiterun so that I could sell some things to try and raise the coin to by some food. I walked out of the shop in time to see some insane Orc hurl himself on top of a beggar and stab him to death. I drew my dagger to try and stop him, but too late. And then the guards came round the corner. Guess who got the blame?'

Zaran gave an appalled gasp. 'They accused you without proof?'

'None at all.' Even though it was long settled, the matter still made A'jira's fur prickle with fury. 'I got taken to the Jarl. Luckily he wasn't about to draw any rash conclusions, and I managed to prove that I hadn't done anything wrong. I'd still broken city law, though, by disturbing the peace, and couldn't pay the fine-'

'That's worm-brained,' Zaran spat angrily. 'Being innocent of a crime is breaking the law? How is that supposed to work?'

A'jira shrugged apologetically. 'Don't blame me. _I_ didn't write the law. But then the Jarl's housecarl- a Wood Elf called Faenlor- offered me a way out. The Jarl's new sword had been taken by Draugr and he wanted me to help him find it.'

'What are Draugr?'

'According to Faenlor, nobody is certain, but from what I've seen of them they're undead, evil ancient Nord warriors.'

'And you fought them to get back the sword?'

'Yes.' A'jira took a deep breath. 'And that was when things started getting complicated. We went into Ulfgard, the ancient Nord tomb where it was suspected that the Draugr would have taken the sword. About halfway in, I found some strange carvings on one of the walls. One of them showed a figure standing victorious over a dead dragon, and Faenlor suggested that it might show the Dragonborn.'

'Dragonborn?' Zaran frowned. 'What is that?'

_Clearly Skyrim legends haven't spread to Black Marsh,_ A'jira thought. 'The Dragonborn is a character from an ancient legend. About five hundred years ago, Skyrim was attacked by dragons. The Dragonborn was a prisoner of the Imperials, but he escaped and soon discovered that he was the only person who could kill dragons. It wasn't long before he had killed the leader of the dragons and returned Skyrim to its former peace. Those dragons that were still alive went into hiding. He was honoured for the rest of his life.'

'Is it true?'

A'jira's whiskers twitched. 'A few weeks ago, the answer would have been 'don't know' but now… it's a resounding 'yes'. You see… something happened. Something that was awful and amazing and a thousand other things too all at the same time.'

She had Zaran's full attention now. She could almost smell his excitement.

'When I looked closer at the carvings, I saw that the figure that had defeated the dragon was not a Nord, like the Dragonborn of old, but a Khajiit, like me.' She paused. 'There was an Argonian too.'

She heard Zaran give a sharp intake of breath, but she carried on regardless. 'We found the sword easily enough, and left the tomb. But upon leaving, we were attacked. Can you guess what by?'

Zaran thought, then spoke the answer in a low hiss. 'Dragon.'

'Yes. Faenlor was badly wounded and asked me to escape and leave him. I had no choice but to obey. The dragon nearly caught me, but-' She hesitated again. 'A second dragon attacked it and bought me time to get away. I rode back to Whiterun and the Jarl sent out a group of guards to kill the dragon.'

'And you went with them?'

'Of course. The dragon started a forest fire that would have killed us all. And then something happened that I didn't understand. I still don't understand. I think another dragon put out the fire.'

'Another dragon? Why?'

'Something breathed frost on the fire and put it out. I'm sure it was another dragon. But I don't know why a dragon would want to save my life.'

Zaran shrugged. 'I cannot answer that for you, friend.'

'Anyway… I managed to kill the dragon. We started to celebrate… and then something strange happened. The dragon's flesh sort of burned. All of its scales and organs and everything turned into light and the light went inside me. For a moment I felt really strong and angry and powerful, just like the dragon.'

'By the Hist…'

'And then the light went. All the guards instantly started nattering about how I must be the Dragonborn, and that meant the dragons were coming back, and all of a sudden I was meant to be a hero and the only person to save the world and-' A'jira broke off, taking a deep breath to control herself. 'I think that the carvings in Ulfgard showed me, the Dragonborn of the future, not the old Dragonborn of the past. That temple-' She pointed at it '-is High Hrothgar, and apparently it was home to the Greybeards, who knew all there was to know about the Dragonborn. That's why I'm here. I want to see if there's anything in that temple that could help me work out whether I really am Dragonborn- and I think I am- and what that means.'

Zaran whistled. 'That is indeed quite some quest. So I suppose you happened upon the bandits as you climbed the mountain?'

'Not exactly.' A'jira's ears flattened as she remembered. 'I heard a dragon attacking them and went to help. We drove it away. But they repaid me by trying to drug me and kill me.'

'The cowards!' Zaran's voice smouldered with barely supressed rage.

'Too right. I tried to escape, but the leader pinned me down. And then something strange happened.'

Suddenly, something went click in her mind and her brain made the connection. The word she had heard in her head in Ulfgard, and the word she had shouted as Hrogar raised his weapon to strike-they were the same!

Excited, but trying not to show it, A'jira went on. 'When I was in Ulfgard, I found this wall. It had these weird carvings on it. When I approached it, some of the carvings glowed, and I heard a word inside my head. _Fus. _I didn't think anything of it, until that bandit leader held me down and prepared to run me through. Without even thinking about it- as if some instinct stronger than myself took over me- I shouted that word, _fus_, even though I didn't know what it means. I still don't know what it means. But Hrogar- that was his name- he was thrown off me by some sort of shockwave. I don't understand what happened, but if it hadn't, I'd be dead.'

Zaran was silent for a long time after she finished. 'What do you think it means?' he inquired finally.

'I don't know,' A'jira replied honestly. 'But I'm certain it was to do with me being Dragonborn. I want answers, Zaran, and that's where I'm going to find them.' She pointed to High Hrothgar a second time.

'That's where _we're _going to find them,' Zaran corrected her, his eyes sparkling. 'You said that there was an Argonian with you on that carving. You think it is me, don't you?'

'Oh, Talos,' A'jira laughed. 'Was I really that obvious?'

Zaran smiled. 'I am a good noticer.' His face grew more serious. 'And even if it is not me, then I will accompany you on your venture anyway. If you are this legendary killer of dragons, then you cannot do such a thing alone. You saved my life. Now I shall defend yours.' He crossed his fists over his heart and bowed.

A'jira knew she could not reject his offer. From the moment she had laid eyes on Zaran-Ra, she had known that their fates lay together.

'All right, then,' she said with a smile. 'These sands may be cold, but we will walk them together and make them warm.' It was an old Khajiit saying.

Zaran nodded. 'To Oblivion and back, as they say.'

* * *

Morning broke over the tops of the mountains, painting their snowy peaks with amber gold. At the summit of a snow-covered crag, a golden eagle unfurled its wings and let out a long screech. Its unblinking eyes surveyed the wild, untamed slopes for a few seconds. Then it lifted into the wind and soared upwards into the sky.

The sound of its hunting cry woke A'jira from a deep and dreamless sleep. Her eyes flickered open and a smile crept over her face as the events of the day before returned to her. She leaped to her feet and promptly smacked her head on the wooden beam that held up the tent. She ignored the pain and started throwing on her armour. She had a mountain to climb, a temple to find, and a destiny to discover this morning. And best of all, she would be doing it with a friend by her side.

Yanking her helmet onto her head, A'jira pushed aside the tent flap and strode out into the camp. It looked much less ominous and threatening in daylight. Summer was chewing on the leaves of a little bush covered in purple berries, the fire was burning merrily, and the blur that was High Hrothgar suddenly seemed much closer.

'Good morning, A'jira!' Zaran stood up from where he was seated by the fire and raised his hand in welcome. 'I have lit the fire for us, and I took the liberty of raiding the supplies of those thieves. We have a good breakfast for ourselves, friend.'

'Brilliant.' A'jira hadn't realised how hungry she was. Sitting down beside Zaran, she took a loaf of bread and bit into it. 'Isn't it a beautiful morning?'

'A fair day indeed. With the weather as calm as this, we should make it to High Hrothgar within an hour or so.'

They ate quickly, then loaded their gear into Summer's saddlebags. 'Do you think she can carry us both?' A'jira asked.

'We are both quite light, I think. She should manage, as long as we do not load her up with unnecessary and heavy items,' Zaran replied.

'There goes my spare armour, then,' A'jira sighed, pulling it from the bag and throwing it aside.

Eventually the load was lessened and they were ready to go. A'jira swung herself up into the saddle and held out her hand to Zaran. 'Can you ride?' she asked.

'… I have ridden,' was the uncertain reply. 'But I fell.'

A'jira laughed and helped him up behind her. 'Don't worry. I won't go too fast.'

Zaran nodded. 'Very well. To High Hrothgar.'

'To High Hrothgar,' A'jira agreed, and dug in her heels. Summer broke into a trot. Turning the mare towards the path, A'jira remembered where she'd left off last night and carried on her counting as they started to ride over the steps.

'One thousand and thirty-eight! One thousand and thirty-nine!'

* * *

'Six thousand, nine hundred and seven. Six thousand, nine hundred and eight. Six thousand, nine hundred and nine.'

A'jira drew Summer to a halt and dismounted. Zaran followed quickly. 'I feel sick,' he moaned. 'I do not wish to ride again- ever.'

A'jira didn't answer. She simply stared up at the huge form of High Hrothgar. 'This is it,' she murmured. 'One more step. Then it's time to discover what being Dragonborn means- if it means anything.'

'Of course it means something. You believe you are dragonborn, yes? Well, so do I. I believe that these dragon creatures are returning. And I believe that you are the one to fight them?'

'You do?'

'You saved me,' Zaran replied, as if that explained everything.

A'jira smiled. 'Come on, then,' she said, and stepped forwards.

'Seven thousand.'

She walked up to the huge door and opened it.

It swung open with a hollow boom. A'jira tentatively walked forward into the temple. She breathed in the air, sifting through the scents.

There were none, apart from those of rats, bats and mice. No people. Not one, except for Zaran and herself. The temple was completely empty.

Disappointment flooded over A'jira in a huge black wave. She had expected this, but the realisation still stung. She had truly hoped that there might be someone here to help her, to explain everything. But no. That was not to be. The silence was almost painful.

'Ah, well,' she sighed after a few seconds. 'I expected as much.'

'No people doesn't mean no answers,' Zaran encouraged her. 'I'm sure there'll be some books or records of the past lying around here somewhere.' He swept his arm around, gesturing to the gloomy interior of the temple.

'We'll need some light first,' A'jira told him. 'I can see in the dark, but you can't.'

Zaran looked miffed. 'A'jira, what sort of a mage do you think I am?' Raising his hand into the air, he summoned a small glowing orb. It lit up the room in a bluish light. 'Candlelight- one of the first spells I ever learned,' Zaran announced proudly.

'Very nice.' A'jira realised that fate had made a good choice when it had chosen Zaran to be her companion. His magic skills were probably going to do a whole lot more than start a few fires and light up dark rooms.

Splitting up, they started their search. Every scroll of parchment was read, every book scoured for answers. A'jira had to snigger upon finding an ancient copy of _The Lusty Argonian Maid _by one of the rickety beds, but somehow didn't think it was going to provide much help on the Dragonborn front, so she replaced it without reading it.

'A'jira. Look at this.'

Zaran was holding up a piece of parchment so old that A'jira was surprised it was still in one piece. It was a painting in faded inks of a grey tabby female Khajiit standing alone in front of a snowy mountain cliff, a bow in one hand and a dagger in the other. The colours were so washed out that it was hard to make out the image. In one corner was a blurry series of words. The first was unintelligible, obscured by a large burn mark, but the others seemed to read _by Derkeethus._

'Derkeethus. I guess that was the painter,' A'jira said. 'Sounds a bit Argonian-ish.'

'Indeed it does. He was a good artist, I think. If you imagine the colours bright and fresh, the painting is really quite beautiful,' Zaran commented.

A'jira nodded her agreement. 'I wonder who she was,' she murmured, running a claw over the pale figure. 'And why Derkeethus made a portrait of her.'

'Just another mystery that will never be solved.' Zaran gently laid the painting down on a table.

As he did so, A'jira caught sight of a ragged pale purple book lying next to it. Picking it up, she opened it. The first page was stuck to the cover and she had to tug it as she opened the book until it fell free. It was written in a neat hand, with all the letters slightly curly. Quickly, A'jira read it:

_This is the journal of Arngeir, member of the Greybeards and chosen instructor to the Dragonborn in these most troubled times. Today we sensed that a new dovahkiin had been chosen. We heard a Voice from the plains of Whiterun- a Voice that we had not taught. It could only be a Dragonborn. We sent out our call to him or her. With luck, the call will be answered and the Dragonborn will come here to High Hrothgar. _

_With the World-Eater preparing to rise again- and Paarthurnax has no doubt that he is- only a Dragonborn can become the salvation of Skyrim. I intended to spend the day meditating on Ice Form, yet am scarcely able to meditate for my excitement. I wonder, will the Dragonborn be young or old, male or female, man or mer or beast? I have no doubt, though, that he or she will be a true hero. _

_As the only member of our brotherhood whose Voice is not too powerful to prevent them from speaking, I will be expected to tutor the dovahkiin. I only pray that I can do so well. All of Skyrim may rely upon what I have to teach the Dragonborn. I am worried, though, that we may not always be able to keep whoever they are on the path of wisdom. There are those- the Blades, for example- who would rather turn the Dragonborn into a murdering fiend…_

_But with the help of all the Divines, I will succeed._

Filled with excitement, A'jira flipped to the next page. And she thought her heart would break from disappointment. The pages were destroyed- burned and ripped and torn so much that only one word in ten was visible. A'jira strained to read the page.

_Toda- *_rip* _dragonb- _*shred* _we decid- *_burn* _unrelenting forc- _*tear*.

It was useless. A'jira felt like crying. Not just out of sorrow, but from anger. The things that had been done to this book could not possibly have been done by accident. It was as clear as day that somebody had done this on purpose. The book had been stabbed with a dagger; pages had been torn out, and whole paragraphs were blotted out by burns, stains, and what looked horribly like blood.

'What is wrong?' Zaran's concerned voice broke in on A'jira's silent fury. Wordlessly, she held the book out to him. His eyes scanned the first page, then widened as he realised what had become of the rest of the journal. 'Who could have done this?' he murmured.

'I don't know. All I know it that I hate them,' A'jira snarled.

She stormed over to the nearest door and pushed it open. A blast of cold air instantly swirled into her face. Blinking, she stepped out into a wide, open courtyard. It was spacious and covered in snow, with a few towers dotted around the edges. A pair of gates led up to a winding pathway swathed in mist.

A'jira's fur prickled with eagerness. 'Zaran!' she called. The Argonian raced to her side.

A'jira pointed to the pathway. 'Think that's worth an investigation?'

'Very much,' her friend replied, voice laden with anticipation.

The two of them set off across the porch at a run, throwing open the gates and starting to race up the path.

'I wonder if this leads all the way to the top of the mountain,' Zaran mused, looking up at the peak, which wasn't too far away from where they were.

'I expect so.' A'jira put on a burst of speed at the thought. Maybe she'd been wrong, and the answers she sought were at the summit of the Throat of the World, and not in High Hrothgar at all.

The path finally widened out onto a plateau. It was smaller than the one where the bandits had made their camp. To A'jira's left, a final swathe of snowy rocks led up to the mountain's peak. To her right was a wall- curved and covered in carvings. With a jolt, she realised it was in the same design as the one in Ulfgard.

With as gasp of amazement, she stepped forward- and froze rigid.

A dragon was sitting on top of the wall, its grey scales covered in a fine dusting of snow. It was facing away from A'jira and Zaran, out over the valley beneath the mountain. It wasn't moving. It hunched figure was like a sentinel, a guard over the forbidding domain around it. Its claws were digging into the stone wall. Any one of those claws could rip a human, elf or beast to shreds in seconds.

'Has it seen us?' Zaran hissed.

'I don't think so,' A'jira whispered. She reached for her bow and readied an arrow. Zaran prepared his spells- fireball in one hand, lightning bolt in the other.

A'jira drew back her string until she could feel the feathers tickling her cheeks, and prepared to fire.

Without turning its head, the dragon spoke.

'_Drem yol lok. _Greetings, _dovahkiin.'_

An inch from releasing the arrow, A'jira hesitated.

'Stay your hand.' The dragon turned around on the wall until it was facing the two of them. 'This is a place for _tiinvaak, _for talk, not for battle.'

A'jira glanced at Zaran, Neither of them moved. It was as if ice had frozen the three of them into statues- Argonian, Khajiit and dragon.

There was a rush of wind. A'jira's head snapped around as, with a plume of snow rising around it, a second dragon, dark red in colour, landed behind her. Fear shot through her. There was a dragon blocking either end of the plateau. They were trapped.

But the newcomer showed no signs of attacking. '_Thuri, dovahkiin!' _it said in a voice that seemed strangely familiar.

'_Dovahkiin.' _A'jira repeated the strange word, slowly letting her bowstring relax. 'What does that mean? I hear it everywhere.'

'_Dovah. _Dragon._ Kiin. _Born. _Dovahkiin. _Dragonborn,_' _the grey dragon replied.

_Dragonborn. _Slowly, A'jira let the arrow fall to the ground and returned its bow to its sheath. 'So… I really am?'

'_Geh. _Yes,' the red dragon hissed.

Heart clenching, A'jira took a step forward. 'What does being Dragonborn means? And who are you? How do you know?'

'Fair questions, _dovahkiin. _I am Paarthurnax,' was the grey dragon's reply.

Nodding, A'jira turned to the red one. 'And you?'

'Odahviing,' he growled.

'You're Odahviing!' Her fur bristled with surprise. 'You were the dragon who was trapped in Dragonsreach by the last Dragonborn, weren't you?'

The two dragons exchanged looks. Odahviing growled something in his own language. A question. Paarthurnax responded with a nod.

Turning backt o A'jira, the red dragon inclined his head. 'Yes. I was that dragon.'

Before either A'jira or Zaran could say anything, he carried on. 'I was also the dragon who attacked Mirmulnir in order to give you time to escape. I was the dragon who put out the fire that Mirmulnir started in order to kill you, and called to you to keep on fighting. I was the dragon who attacked the bandits who held your lizard friend captive, and led you to them by my roaring so that the two of you might meet.'

A'jira stared at the huge creature in shock, her amber eyes wide.

'I was also the dragon who, though you do not remember it, killed the wolves that slaughtered your parents and carried you to the roadside where you would be found and taken to safety. I am the dragon who has watched over you since the day of your birth, and will continue to do so until the day of your death.'

Still staring, A'jira spoke in a voice that was little more than a whisper. 'Why?'

The dragon's eyes narrowed. 'I swore an oath, _dovahkiin. _An oath of service to your ancestor that I would protect all those who carried her blood for as long as I lived.'

A'jira's heart started to beat faster. 'My ancestor? Who… who was that?'

It was Paarthurnax who replied. 'The one to whom both Odahviing and myself are sworn. The only one who my brother ever feared. The one who saved all of Skyrim from destruction.'

He turned his head and fixed A'jira with his intense gaze. 'Your ancestor. J'shana. The Dragonborn.'

* * *

***Please don't ask me if it really does. I don't know.**

** **I made up the not being able to marry Nords bit.**

* * *

**And there we are, the truth about A'jira's past! More will be revealed in the next chapter, so please save any question until then.**

**Reviews are much appreciated!**


	9. In Days Gone By

Chapter Nine- In Days Gone By

Location: Throat of the World

Date: 10th of Sun's Height

Strange how a few tiny words and actions can change your life forever.

A'jira stood rooted to the spot. Her entire world had just been turned upside down- even more so than when she had discovered she was Dragonborn.

'No,' she whispered hoarsely. 'No, you must be wrong. The Dragonborn was a Nord. Everyone says so!'

'Everyone is wrong,' Odahviing growled. 'She was a _kaaz _like you. J'shana was her name, and she was the greatest hero that ever walked _taazokaan. _There was none more courageous, none more deadly with a bow, none more loyal to her friends and her home._'_

Paarthurnax nodded his agreement. 'She was a _kendov, _a _hun, _and a _fahdon_.'

A'jira's incomprehension must have showed on her face, because the dragon swiftly translated. 'A warrior, a hero, and a friend.'

Zaran stepped forward. 'But if so, how is it that there are not stories and legends of her? A'jira said that the tales are of a Nord.'

A'jira nodded. 'A Nord, strong and powerful, a true son of Skyrim, who was the only one who could kill a dragon…'

'_NOK!' _Odahviing roared the word so fiercely that both young beasts stepped back in fright. 'Lies! Falsehoods and deception! It was the fools who ruled this land. They were proud and arrogant. Your ancestor was honoured for the century after her death, but then the _bronne, _the Nords, began to canker at heart. They saw it as a dishonour. For the saviour of their country to be a _kaaz, _a Khajiit! It was too much for them to bear.'

'She was a great _kendov, _a great warrior,' Paarthurnax agreed. 'Only she defeated Alduin, and returned this warring world to _drem…_ to peace.'

'And that, of course, they could not stand.' Odahviing raked his talons through the snow. 'How could a cat, a beast, be the great hero of legend?'

Paarthurnax shook his head sadly. 'You saw what they did in High Hrothgar, _dovahkiin.'_

A'jira nodded. 'Arngeir's journal …'

'They say that the Greybeards told lies about the dragonborn for their own personal gain.' Odahviing's voice was full of scorn and anger. '_That_ was the lie. The greybeards told only the truth. It was the _bronne _who lied. They murdered the greybeards and destroyed all they could find of the Dragonborn's legacy. Soon she was _vodahmiin… _forgotten, by all mortals.'

'My ancestor was Dragonborn?' A'jira couldn't quite believe it.

'Indeed. It seems as if it was only yesterday that she stood here before me, asking to learn Dragonrend…' Paarthurnax gave a sad smile. It appeared that the dragon's way of smiling was to bare very tooth in his head. The effect was rather alarming. 'She and her friend, so determined to change the world…'

'Her friend? Who was that?'

'The green one… he, too, is _vodahmiin.'_

'Green one?' A'jira shot a look at Zaran. 'An Argonian?'

'_Geh. _Yes.'

'Derkeethus!' Zaran burst out the word excitedly. 'In High Hrothgar, we found a painting of a Khajiit archer. That was A'jira's ancestor, no? Painted by her friend.'

'Derkeethus… _geh_, that was his name.' The grey dragon let out a long sigh. 'Five hundred years is a long time to remember the title of a _joor.._. a mortal.'

Odahviing dipped his horned head. 'She rescued him from a cave where he was held captive by the _odfahliil, _and in return gained his loyalty and companionship… not to mention his heart.'

'A Khajiit rescuing an Argonian…' A'jira's head was spinning. 'The carvings in Ulfgard… I thought they were a prophecy, rather than a memory. But I was wrong. They were both. Right?'

'_Geh.'_

A'jira looked at Zaran. 'What do you think about this?'

Her friend shrugged. 'We came here for answers. We did not get them in quite the form we expected, but answers are here, all the same.'

A'jira nodded. 'I think we'd better sit down and talk this whole thing through… slowly.'

Paarthurnax nodded. 'Very wise, _dovahkiin. _Those that run fast often fall.'

A'jira swept the snow from a boulder and took a seat on it. Zaran did the same.

'What does being Dragonborn mean?' It was A'jira's most important question, the one she wanted answered first and foremost.

The two dragons glanced at each other. 'It is… heartbreaking, I think you would say, to see how far Skyrim has come,' Odahviing sighed. 'Not long ago, nobody would have needed to ask such a question.'

'What does it mean?' A'jira insisted.

'It is quite simple.' Paarthurnax blinked. 'You are a _joor, _a mortal, but your soul is that of a _dovah.'_

'_What?'_

'You it was who caused Mirmulnir, the _dovah _that tried to slaughter you, to _dir,' _Paathurnax explained. 'With his death, his soul was absorbed into your body.'

_His soul… _A'jira shook her head, though with amazement rather than disbelief. That explained the rush of rage and power she had felt as the fire from the dead dragon's body had entered her.

'This gives you great power,' Odahviing continued. 'You are partly right when you say that only you can _krii aan dovah… _can kill a dragon. Anyone can kill one of our kind, but only the _dovahkiin _can kill one forever, by absorbing its soul.' He exchanged a look with Paarthurnax. 'Or so we thought.'

'It also gives you mastery over the _thu'um,' _Paarthurnax added.

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'It is what you discovered by chance yesterday. Do you _dahmaan, _remember, how you killed the _bron _that tried to kill you?'

'_Fus…' _A'jira whispered the word.

'_Fus _is 'force'. It is part of a _thu'um, _a Shout, in the language of the _dov,' _Odahviing explained. 'If you learn the three _rotmulaag_, the words of power of a Shout, you control the meaning of those words.'

'When I shouted it, it knocked him backwards,' A'jira said nervously.

'_Geh_. But the full Shout is of far more power.' Paarthurnax turned his head to face the curved wall. 'Come, _dovahkiin. _Let the lesson of your identity begin. Odahviing and I shall take it upon ourselves to teach you two _thu'umme_. Two Shouts. Odahviing…'

The red dragon nodded. '_Fus ro dah!' _he roared, and a blue wave shot out from around him and onto the wall. Some of the carvings lit up brightly.

'Approach the wall, Dragonborn,' he growled, turning to A'jira. 'Learn the two words of Unrelenting Force that you do not know.'

Warily, A'jira approached the wall. A roaring filled her ears as it had in Ulfgard. Her fur was swept backwards by an invisible breeze. Light surrounded her, as it had then. But this time the word was different.

_Ro._

No sooner had it faded from her mind than a second began. _Dah, _chanted a thousand whispering voices, until she thought her head would burst with the sound.

'Good. Now, approach Odahviing, and he will share with you his mastery of _ro, _balance, and of _dah, _push.'

A'jira spun on the spot to face the red dragon. Bowing his head, Odahviing growled something that even A'jira's sensitive ears could not hope to hear. Light flooded from him and into her, as it had when Mirmulnir had died, but this time the feeling of inexorable power was not accompanied by rage.

As the light died away, Paarthurnax lowered his head. 'Step away from the wall now, _dovahkiin, _and I will give you a second gift.'

A'jira did so, stepping backwards to stand beside Zaran. She was shaking, and her fur was standing on end.

'Are you all right?' Zaran murmured, sounding concerned.

'I… I think so,' A'jira replied, unsure whether she was.

Zaran slipped his hand into hers, and A'jira, though surprised, grasped it gratefully.

Paarthurnax lowered himself down from the wall. '_YOL TOOR SHUL!' _he bellowed, and A'jira recognised the words. Flames spewed from the dragon's mouth, lighting up the wall.

'Go forwards, _kiir, _child. You know what you have to do,' Odahviing murmured from behind her. 'Comprehend fire as the _dovah _do!'

A'jira obediently but reluctantly released Zaran's hand and stood in front of the wall. The rush of light and words was so strong this time that it threatened to swamp her completely, and when it was gone, it left her gasping and panting like a fish out of water.

'Now, _Dovahkiin, _let us hear your voice,' Paarthurnax growled. 'Greet me, as your ancestor did, not as Khajiit, but as _dovah!'_

And in that moment A'jira let all her doubts drop away, like water falling from a cliff, plunging down in tumult to the depths below. There was no denying it; there was no doubting it. She was Dragonborn. Her ancestor had been Dragonborn. This was her destiny. This was who she was. This was what she had been born for.

'_YOL TOOR SHUL!' _

And now it was from her mouth that the flames came, searing the air and licking at Paarthunax's dull scales, which, for a second, glowed brighter than a thousand suns as the fire burned around him. She was worried that she might have hurt the old dragon, but he closed his eyes as if he was enjoying it, looking delighted.

'_Geh, geh! _Ah, your voice is as strong as that of your ancestor! So long since I last held _tiinvaak _with a _dovahkiin! _Too long!'

Odahviing nodded his approval. 'Now you are here, this land has a chance.'

A'jira allowed a smile to creep over her face.

Zaran frowned. 'There is something I do not understand,' he said. 'Why now? Why is it now that a new Dragonborn comes?'

'The _daal_… the return… of the _dovahkiin _has come about because of the _daal _of another.' Paarthurnax's scaly face was grim. 'My brother. The world eater. Alduin.'

Alduin.

A'jira's mouth dropped open. '_Alduin? _But… I thought he was just a legend!'

'Are you a legend? Am I a legend?' Odahviing had no eyebrows, but if he had, he would have raised them.

'I guess not… but _Alduin?'_

'Alduin?' Zaran had clearly never heard of him.

A'jira explained hurriedly. 'Alduin was the leader of the dragons that attacked Skyrim five hundred years ago. He was defeated before then, but somehow it didn't work properly, and he returned. They say he was the first-born of Akatosh himself! But the Dragonborn- my ancestor- killed him.' Her eyes were wide with a mixture of horror and amazement. 'But he's back? Alduin's back?'

'Indeed. There is an ancient prophecy that your ancestor dreamed of a year after the defeat of Alduin.' Odahviing clawed at the ground. 'It says, _The world eater will come three times. The first time, he will be banished. The second time, he will be defeated. The third time, he will be destroyed.' _The first time, the _bron hunne_, the Nord heroes, used the _kel_, the Elder Scroll, to cast him adrift in the currents of time. The second time, your ancestor travelled to Sovngarde itself and killed him there. But Alduin's soul was not absorbed by her. If it had, we would have no need to be here. Instead, it travelled into the Void, where it stayed, gathering strength, until it found the power to re-enter the mortal realm.'

Paarthurnax continued the tale. 'I do not know for sure, but I believe that he implanted his soul into mortal bodies.' He shook his head sadly. 'Poor weak _joorre. _They were no match for Alduin. He possessed them until his evil became too much for their body to bear, and then he moved on to another. And another. Until a group of _nahgahdinokke -_necromancers, do you say in your tongue?- were able to return him to his body.'

'_What?' _Zaran and A'jira burst out together, staring incredulously at the grey dragon.

'Were they _mad?' _A'jira shrieked. 'For exactly how long had these people been taking tea with Sheogorath?'

'Too long, if you want my opinion. Hist save us, the world has gone crazy!' Zaran exclaimed.

'I do not pretend to understand the ways of these _joorre,' _Paarthurnax admitted, 'But I believe they thought that resurrecting Alduin would bring them power unlimited.'

'They were wrong,' Odahviing snorted. 'He killed them all.'

'And now he seeks to resurrect the rest of the _dov,' _Paarthurnax sighed. 'By sacrificing those _dovahhe _that are loyal to me and Odahviing, he is returning those who are loyal to him?'

'How does he do that?' asked Zaran.

'And more importantly, how do we stop him?' A'jira added.

'_Drem. _Think, _Dovahkiin_. The events of your life are a mirror of those that have happened in days gone by. A female _kaas _who is _dovahkiin, _with her _jel _friend. Born to slay Alduin. It was your ancestor, not you, who was meant to be the one who took Alduin's soul. But, by a twist of fate, she did not. So the world has been given a second chance… through you.'

'So I have to do exactly the same things as J'shana?'

'Not exactly.' Odahviing hesitated.

'Let us start at the beginning,' Paarthurnax rumbled. 'Your ancestor was a stranger to Skyrim. She came here without knowledge of her true self.'

'It began when she was sentenced to death,' Odahviing explained. 'Alduin attacked her executioners and allowed her to escape.'

'He could not have known, of course, that he had saved the one who would one day be his _dinok,' _Paarthurnax chuckled. 'Not long after, J'shana killed the dragon Mirmulnir- the same _dovah _that you slew- and learned that she was _dovahkiin. _Through me, she was taught how the ancient _bron hunne _banished Alduin with the _kel_. She wished to learn the Dragonrend _thu'um- _a shout that can rip a dragon from the sky. She used the _kel _to learn it and tried to _krii _Alduin- but he fled to Sovngarde in order to heal.'

'She captured me in order to find him,' Odahviing growled. 'It was… a humiliating experience, but I soon realised that her voice was strong and far truer than that of Alduin. I agreed to help her. I took her and her friend to the right place.'

'She defeated my _zeymah, _my brother, in Sovngarde, along with the _hunne _of old. Upon returning to his land, she married her _fahdon, _Derkeethus, and settled down, intending to live in _drem.'_

'And then she had the dream.' Odahviing raised his eyes to the sky. 'She asked us about it, and when she told us that she had not absorbed Alduin's soul after his _dinok, _his death, we realised that some… accident had prevented him from dying truly, and that another _dovahkiin _would one day come to defeat him utterly.'

A'jira felt the fur on her hackles rise up. It was somewhat unnerving to think that her birth had been planned five hundred years before it actually happened.

'Learning this, the _dovahkiin _decided that she must do something to aid her descendant,' Odahviing continued. 'She delved into an ancient ruin, and created a sacred sanctuary which none but the _dovahkiin, _or one accompanied by them, could enter. This was where she hid her armour, weapons, and everything else she bequeathed to her descendant. It is also where she and Derkeethus were laid to rest after their _dinokke. _It is known as Dragonborn Barrow.'

'Among other things, your ancestor left something precious there _ingrah vod… _long ago. A _thu'um _of her own making. She had a vision in her dream, she said, and she knew that only one who could use this _thu'um _could defeat Alduin. Most importantly, that person had to be _dovahkiin, _for the nature of that Shout required one with dragon blood to use it.' Paarthurnax looked intently at A'jira as he spoke.

'What was the Shout?'

'She could not tell us. It was not for us to know.'

'So you want me to find this Shout, right? Is that it?'

'It is not that we want you to- it is that you must do. Only with it can you hope to defeat Alduin.'

A'jira nodded slowly. 'But what's to prevent any old person from going to Dragonborn Barrow?'

'The entrance is built on the site where your ancestor gained entry to Sovngarde. The portal has long since gone, but the barrow lies where it used to be. There is but one way to reach it… through the air.' Odahviing's eyes gleamed.

A'jira understood instantly. 'You mean, by riding a dragon.'

'_Geh.'_

Zaran's green eyes stretched wide. 'You want us to ride you?'

'If you wish to find the Barrow, it is the only way.'

A'jira nodded. 'Then we will.'

Strange. Only ten minutes ago she'd been prepared to shoot both dragons full of arrows. Now she was holding what seemed like a perfectly ordinary conversation with them and one of them was in effect offering to be hired out as a carriage.

A thought struck her. After reflection later, it seemed a strange thing to ask, but it was the only thing she felt she didn't know. 'What about Summer?'

'Summer? What does _koor _have to do with this?' Paarthurnax looked at her with perplexity.

'My horse.'

'Your _key? _No horse could ride a dragon. She cannot come with us.'

A'jira felt sad. The mare had been her companion so far through so many of her mad adventures. She didn't want to let her go.

Zaran looked thoughtful. 'Maybe we could send Summer back to the Whiterun stables, with a message to the Jarl asking him to look after her until your return?'

A'jira smiled gratefully at her friend. 'Yes, that'd be a good idea. We'll have to go down to High Hrothgar and fetch her.'

'_Dovahkiin. _Wait.' Paarthurnax stretched his huge neck out towards her. 'It is a good idea for you to return to the temple. Not just so that you can find your _key, _but for another reason.' He paused. 'Find the… the place where your kind sit down and eat. I do not know the word.'

'Table?' A'jira suggested.

'Table. A strange word for a strange object. Find it and examine the seat at the head. There is a carving on it. A _dovah _in flight. Examine the tail. You will be glad of it,' the old dragon advised.

'O-_kay…' _A'jira wasn't sure she understood, but the tone of Paarthurnax's voice allowed no refusal.

'I will wait for you at the end of the path to High Hrothgar.' Odahviing spread his mighty wings, preparing to take to the air.

A'jira and Zaran nodded. The red wings swept- once, twice, three times, as Odahviing struggled to lift his huge weight into the air. And suddenly all the clumsiness and oversize of a dragon on the ground was gone. He was a fearsome, beautiful, deadly, perfect predator, a creature of the sky, as free and powerful as the eagle that had woken A'jira that morning.

'Farewell for now, Dovahkiin!' he roared, and swooped as gracefully and lightly as a summer breeze around the side of the mountain and out of sight.

A'jira and Zaran were left alone with Paarthurnax.

'I have a few more things to share with you,' the grey dragon rumbled. 'Knowledge can be dangerous, but you need it, _dovahkiin.'_

A'jira nodded.

'News of the return of the _dovahkiin _will spread quickly. You may find yourself welcomed by some, yet unwelcomed by many.'

'The feeling's hardly new,' A'jira told him.

The dragon let out a throaty chuckle. 'You have much spirit, _kiir. _This will make you a strong _kendov.' _He smiled. 'Listen now, both of you. The two of you, _kaaz _and _jel, _are bound together by something that is stronger than _laas… _stronger than life itself.' He let out a long sigh. 'You cannot avoid it; it is your destiny. You a bound together by fate.'

Zaran nodded. 'I know. A'jira told me.'

Paarthurnax blinked. 'But remember, _dovahkiin, _for I know that you must use this knowledge well one day- sometimes, fate and destiny can be different things.'

The two young creatures glanced at each other in confusion.

'_Krosis. _Pardon… sometimes I indulge too much my passion for _tiinvaak.' _Paarthurnax sounded apologetic. 'You should leave me now… I wish you all the best.'

A'jira nodded. 'Thank you, Paarthurnax.'

'_Nid, dovahkiin. _Thank you.'

* * *

The seat was stone and ornately carved, covered in intricate patterns with too much detail for A'jira's eyes to make out. People, animals and plants were woven around the outside, but the main image was in the centre- a dragon, as Paarthurnax had said. It was flying, its wings above its head, as if it was hovering, preparing to breathe inferno over some unsuspecting victim.

As she had been instructed, A'jira bent down to examine the dragon's tail. At first she couldn't see anything unusual about it and wondered why Paarthurnax had told her to look at it. Then she noticed a little groove in the dragon's dagger-shaped tail-end. She inserted her claw into it. It fitted perfectly. A'jira ran her talon along the groove and, with a click, part of the seat of the chair fell away, revealing an indent inside it.

Warily, she reached inside, and her hand closed around something soft and hard at the same time. She gently pulled it out. It was a book with a blue leather colour, with thick silver clasps. It was as old as the ruined diary, but unlike it, it was whole- unspoiled and beautiful. A'jira turned to the first page. The writing, too, was unlike that of Arngeir- it was far scruffier, thought it was clear that the writer had been trying to make an effort to be neat, judging by the curly letters. She read them and gave a gasp of delight.

_The Diary of J'shana Tygra_

_Khajiit of Elsweyr_

And beneath the two sentences, in ink of a different hue- it had clearly been added later- was a single word:

_Dragonborn_

Joy flooding her, A'jira slipped the book into a pocket of her breeches and left the room, making her way outside. Odahviing was on the ground several metres away, looking ungainly and out of place. Zaran was nearby, stroking Summer's nose.

'Did you find anything?' he called as A'jira approached.

'Yes. I'll show you later.' She was worried he might take offence at that, but he simply smiled and nodded.

A'jira stepped up to Summer and threw her arms around the mare's neck. Summer have a whinny that sounded surprised and sympathetic and sad all at once.

'I'm sorry I have to leave you, girl,' A'jira whispered. 'But it's the only way. And you'll be far safer in Whiterun than you will with me. Less likely to get killed.'

She blinked back tears and tied the letter of explanation she had written to the Jarl onto Summer's bridle, so that he'd be sure to read it. 'Look after yourself, girl,' she said quietly. 'Goodbye.'

Summer nuzzled her gently. A'jira knew she had understood. Zaran released her reins, and the mare turned and started to trot away down the path. Soon she had vanished among the rocks.

Knowing that there was no time to get tearful, A'jira nodded to Odahviing. 'We're ready.'

'Good. Sit upon my neck, _dovahkiin, _and hold onto my horns. You, _jel, _behind her, and hold her shoulders. Do not let go.'

_I am about to ride a dragon… oh, Talos, divines, I hope you know what you're doing, _A'jira pleaded silently. She knew there was no arguing with Odahviing. She walked over to his neck and- with some effort, because his spines got in the way and he wasn't exactly small- swung her leg over. A moment later she was seated on his neck as if he were an overgrown, scaly red horse.

'I said I did not wish to ride again,' Zaran grumbled as A'jira helped him up behind her. 'I think the gods are laughing at me.'

'Cheer up,' A'jira said eagerly, unable to hide her excitement. 'After all, we're going to be the third and fourth people in history to ever ride a dragon.'

'Two was enough!'

Odahviing roared with laughter- literally.

'Come on, Zaran. This is going to be amazing.'

'I'm sure,' the Argonian moaned through gritted teeth.

'Are you ready, _joorre?' _Odahviing growled.

'Yes,' A'jira said firmly.

_No, _she thought unhappily.

But there was no going back now. Odahviing let out an almighty roar and unfurled his wings. He took two steps forward and, like an arrow fired from a bow, he shot into the air.

The ground fell away beneath them. The mountains, the forests, the villages- in seconds they had shrunk to the size of specks of dust. The wind whipped past on all sides. It was a hundred, a thousand, a million times more magical and wonderful than riding a horse. Odahviing's enormous wings rose and fell as they lifted higher, then suddenly he dipped his head and dived downwards. A'jira let out a delighted whoop as they rocketed towards the ground faster than anything she'd ever seen. Odahviing's wings just missed the tops of a group of pine trees.

A'jira twisted round in her seat. 'Isn't this amazing?' she shouted.

Zaran was clinging to her with his eyes tight shut. 'I think I have just discovered I am afraid of flying,' he whimpered.

'But haven't you seen the view?'

'Yes! It is a long, long way to fall!'

'Heights never killed anyone! It's hitting the ground that does it, and if you're scared of the ground, you'd best get into the air as quickly as possible!' A'jira laughed, full of exhilaration.

Zaran opened his eyes. 'I will need some time to work that out,' he announced.

'Oh, come on, Zaran! Look at it!' A'jira let go of Odahviing's horns and spread out her arms. 'Isn't it wonderful?'

The corner of Zaran's mouth twitched ever so slightly. 'It is very beautiful… but I still would rather not look.' He closed his eyes again.

A'jira shrugged and turned around. The breeze whipped through her fur. This was amazing. This was amazing. This was amazing! It was the most amazing thing she had ever done in her life. She opened her mouth, and laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

They swooped through the sky, silhouetted against the bright eye of the sun- two young creatures, riding a red dragon. Onwards they flew, towards their destiny.

* * *

**Since there are no more spoilers, the dragon conversation between Odahviing and Mirmulnir in Chapter Three meant (loosely) this:**

**Odahviing: Mirmulnir! Cowardly troll! We cannot kill her, the Khajiit child! She is the Dragonborn!**

**Mirmulnir: She is the enemy of dragonkind! She will die!**

**Odahviing: No! I am sworn to her! **_**Yol toor shul!**_

**I don't think that last bit needs a translation.**

**As for the dragon words in this chapter, my source was the page on dragon language on the Elder Scrolls wiki, if you're interested. The only word I made up myself was 'jel,' which I used to mean 'Argonian.' I looked for ages, but still couldn't find the dragon for Argonian, so I took the liberty of using **_**jel, **_**which is the name for the Argonian language. Couldn't think of anything else. Sorry. If anyone happens to know the real word, I'd really appreciate it if you could tell me.**

**I expect a lot of you are wondering about the Khajiit/Argonian partnership thing. Well, I really wanted to have Derkeethus as J'shana's husband. You've probably worked out that J'shana is my own character. She really is married to Derkeethus, and as he's also her follower, and has saved her from numerous dragons, dragon priests, bandits, wolves, draugr and so on I felt I owed him something, so I was determined to include him here. However this did, obviously, create a problem- how do a Khajiit and an Argonian have children? Eventually I decided that if Khajiit and Argonians have kids together, they will not turn out as ugly cat-lizards, but they will look entirely like one race or the other. They will, however, have some qualities of the other race- eg. a Khajiit resistant to disease that can breathe underwater, or an Argonian that can see in the dark. I hope this makes sense…**

**I really like Summer, so she will appear again at some point in the story. This I promise.**

**You all know what I'm going to ask now. Please please please please please review! This chapter was very confusing and very hard to write, so I'd love to know what you thought of it.**


	10. Voice of the Past

**Some of you may well wonder why this chapter is necessary. If I gave the complete answer to that I'd give you so many spoilers there'd be no more reason for any of you to read the story. So, sorry, no complete explanation is forthcoming. But to put it in a nutshell, I want A'jira to understand and know more about J'shana and her experiences as Dragonborn, so that she becomes more willing to accept her destiny.**

**And to be honest, the last chapter was so complicated to write it gave me a headache. So I needed to write something a little easier.**

**Ok, read on! And can I just take a moment to thank all of my reviewers. You guys are amazing; it's great to have people like you keeping me motivated.**

* * *

Chapter Ten- Voice of the Past

Location: Several hundred metres above the wilds of Skyrim

Date: 10th of Sun's Height

_When I began this diary, I had no idea who I was or where my life would lead. I began it the day before I crossed the border into Skyrim, intending it to be an account of my life in a new country._

_Which was what it became. But it became far more than that. Now, more than a year after I wrote the first entry in this journal, I have changed beyond all recognition. I am Dragonborn. I am married, and expecting a child. I have taken the lives of hundreds, and saved the lives of thousands. Oft I look back upon the scared child who entered my beloved Skyrim all that time ago and find it hard to believe that she and I are the same person. Everything about me has changed- my identity, my views on life, the way I think, even the way I write! _

_I know that you, reading this now, are my descendant. The one to kill Alduin forever. I could not do it, so you must. I want you to know that I will guide you every step of the way as much as I can._

_The dragons are returning. You are the one to defeat them. Paarthurnax and Odahviing promised me that, and they are two of the greatest friends I have. _

_I wish you the very best of luck. _

_Now, turn the page and read what I wrote all that time ago, when I no more knew my destiny than a bottle of ale knows the history of the Black-Briar Meadery._

_I hope that the tale my life will help you to understand the events now taking place in yours._

_May you walk on warm sands._

_Your ancestor_

_J'shana_

It was cold up in the air, but Odahviing's inner flame gave of a warmth that prevented A'jira from feeling the chill. Zaran had somehow managed to fall asleep. A'jira had been unable to. J'shana's diary called to her just as Zaran had said that the Throat of the World had called to him- like a flame calls to a moth.

With trembling hands, she turned the page. She understood instantly what J'shana had meant about thinking and writing differently- she often referred to herself in third person, and used many Khajiit sayings. It was slightly confusing to read, but A'jira was determined to make sense of it. She had to.

_This is the diary of J'shana Tygra, a Khajiit of Elsweyr. Tonight J'shana hopes to cross the border into Skyrim. It is perilous. The Imperials have it under heavy guard. But J'shana knows how to stay hidden._

_For the last two years J'shana has lived in Cyrodiil, with her parents and sister, trading goods. But now we have been separated. Mother is dead, killed in a fight with an Imperial soldier who did not want us to trade in his city. Father wanted us to move away from Cyrodiil. J'shana wanted to return home to Elsweyr, for it is a beautiful county. But Father said that the Dominion is still in power there and they have sworn to kill him, so we must not return. Instead he took us north to this land of Skyrim._

_It is a dangerous land, and J'shana has heard rumours of a war going on there. And it had no boundless deserts or beautiful tropical forests like Elsweyr. J'shana did not think she would like it much when Father decided we would go there. But now our family is scattered. We were separated from each other when we were attacked by wolves under cover of darkness. Now J'shana has made it her mission to enter Skyrim, for that is where her family will go if they are still alive, _

_J'shana can see the border from her camp. Soon she will pack up her things and leave. It is time to cross that border and enter that fierce looking country that lies beyond. And, Ahnurr and Fadomai and the other Gods willing, J'shana will succeed._

A'jira looked down at the next entry.

_So much has happened since last J'shana wrote in this diary that she is having trouble believing in it. She writes from a house in Riverwood, where a kind family have let her stay the night. Tomorrow she must leave to a city called Whiterun, to deliver a message to the Jarl there._

_J'shana will explain. She failed to cross the border and was captured by the Imperials. She was knocked out. When she awoke she was on a cart with several other prisoners, all bound for execution. One was a horse thief. The other two were named Ralof and Ulfric Stormcloak. Ulfric is the leader of a rebellion against the empire and Ralof is one of his soldiers. By the twin moons, J'shana had not realised she had walked into a war zone, but now it is far too late to turn back._

_We were all four sentenced to death, many other Stormcloak soldiers too. The horse thief, Lokir, J'shana thinks his name was, tried to flee and was shot down. Tullius, General of the Imperials here in Skyrim, confronted Ulfric Stormcloak, condemning his starting of the war. Despite the situation, it was very funny to see how unimpressive Tullius appeared in front of Ulfric- like a gnat trying to threaten a bear! Ridiculous. _

_One rebel soldier was executed and then J'shana was next. She laid her head upon the block and prepared to meet the gods. But then she saw a creature round the mountains and land on the roof of the tower. She recognised it as the creature that adorns the flags of the Imperial Legion, but she was hardly able to believe that she was seeing one. Then someone shouted and removed all doubt:_

'_Dragon!'_

_The beast roared something and blazing rocks began to fall from the sky. The executioner was killed outright, and J'shana was stunned. Then she heard a voice calling to her. 'Hey, Khajiit! Get up! Come on- the gods won't give us another chance.'_

_It was Ralof, the Stormcloak soldier. He helped J'shana to her feet and led her to a tower where they took shelter for a while. Ulfric Stormcloak, who had also managed to free himself, told us to escape while we could. We attempted to jump onto the roof of a nearby building, however, when J'shana descended from the roof to the ground again, in the confusion, she lost sight of Ralof. _

_Suddenly the Imperial soldier who had been reading out the names of the condemned grabbed J'shana's arm. 'Still alive, prisoner? Stick with me if you want to stay that way.' Well, what could J'shana do but obey? However, as he led me towards the keep we ran into Ralof again. Both he and the Imperial ran off into the keep, but both seemed to expect J'shana to follow them. J'shana was uncertain of what to do at first, but then she remembered her mother's lifeblood seeping into the earth at the hands of an Imperial, and how Ralof stayed to help J'shana when she lay stunned, when he could have left her and ran. So J'shana followed Ralof._

_J'shana managed to escape by following a series of caves. Ralof then led her to Riverwood, where his sister and her family live. They have lent J'shana their home for this night and say she will always be welcome among them. Ralof will leave tomorrow for Windhelm, to rejoin his comrades. J'shana herself must go to Whiterun and ask for help from the Jarl. She was too tired to go immediately, but will as soon as she has snatched a few hours of sleep._

_It may not have been in the way she planned, but J'shana has entered Skyrim at last. She saw it properly for the first time when she exited the caves, and it is beautiful. Dragons aside, J'shana is happy to be here._

A'jira was careful not to wake Zaran with the stirring of the pages as she read of J'shana's dangerous mission into Bleak Falls Barrow in order to find the 'dragonstone' for the Whiterun court wizard. She grinned as she read about her ancestor's battle with Draugr. J'shana seemed very like her- naïve and inexperienced, but just as fierce when angered. And they both shared the same hatred of the Draugr.

But it wasn't until the next entry that A'jira really began to feel that she and her ancestor were as alike as twins.

_Dragonborn. That is what J'shana is supposed to be now. A mortal being with the soul of a dragon. She has the ability to absorb a dragon's soul upon its death, and to Shout in dragon language. Fus, that is the only word J'shana knows thus far. It appears to have the ability to stagger my foes. J'shana is sure it will come in useful… but first she should explain how this came about._

_On arrival back in Whiterun, J'shana learned that a dragon was attacking the Western Watchtower. She accompanied the guards sent to defeat it. She used the bow that Ralof gave her to shoot it and eventually it was killed. As it died, fire and light rose from its body and went inside J'shana. _

_As J'shana returned to Whiterun she heard a strange voice from the sky. According to the Jarl it was the Greybeards, a cult who are experts on all matters to do with the Dragonborn, calling me to High Hrothgar, where they live. He explained to J'shana what it means to be Dragonborn and also gave her a great honour. J'shana is to be Thane of Whiterun! Second only to the Jarl! She also has been given her own house in the city, and also a Housecarl, a sort of bodyguard, to defend her. Her name is Lydia and she is a Nord warrior. J'shana liked her immediately and feels that she will be good friends with her new Housecarl. _

_Now we have bought horses from the stables and are on our way to High Hrothgar. J'shana hopes that the Greybeards will help her._

A'jira felt a smile spread over her face. J'shana had been thrust into her destiny as suddenly and as devoid of knowledge or warning as she had. And yet she had become the greatest hero to ever live. It was a comforting thought.

_Lydia has made a suggestion. She says that the Khajiit are not looked kindly upon by Nords, and it will make a good impression upon them if J'shana ceases referring to herself as J'shana, but as 'I'. This, J'shana knows, is the custom of all smooth-skin races. In Ta'agra, which is of course J'shana's native tongue, there is no word for 'I' or 'me,' but still J'shana… I… will try to do as Lydia suggests. She is right, it will indeed sit better with the Nords. _

_J'shana and Lydia- no, Lydia and I, along with our horses, are halfway up the Throat of the World and intend to reach High Hrothgar tomorrow._

Wordlessly, A'jira read of J'shana's tutoring with the Greybeards, and her journey to find the horn of Jurgen Windcaller. Her eyes widened as J'shana and Lydia arrived to find the horn taken, and set off for Riverwood to find whoever had taken it. It felt so real and alive. It was as if she was there, inside her ancestor's head, living it along with her.

_I proved to Delphine that I am Dragonborn. We killed the dragon Sahloknir at Kynesgrove. But things are worse than Delphine thought- turns out that dragons are not just arising from the dead- they are being resurrected by other dragons. I saw with my very own the black dragon that saved my life at Helgen bring Sahloknir back from the dead. Fat lot of good it did him though, as Saloknir is now dead and his soul is inside me._

_Delphine, apparently, is the last surviving member of the Blades, a group of Dragonslayers. I am glad I have made so many friends in Skyrim so quickly. Ralof and his family, the Jarl of Whiterun, Lydia, the Greybeards, and now a professional Dragonslayer! _

_Delphine now wants me to go to the Thalmor Embassy and find out how much the Aldmeri know about the return of the Dragons. I have my doubts about whether this is a good idea, but… Delphine has helped me so far._

_I just realised that I wrote this entire entry calling myself 'I' all the way through. I am talking like a Nord! Gods help me, I've gone native!_

_/_

_This night has been the most stressful of my life! Delphine's friend Malborn got me into the embassy as promised, but my cover and his were blown quickly. However we managed to get out alive, by sneaking out through the dungeons. We also freed a prisoner, Etienne Rarnis, which I am proud of. I wouldn't like to leave anyone at the mercy of the Thalmor. Mainly because the Thalmor have no mercy._

_I found that the Thalmor know nothing about the Dragons, but they are investigating somebody called Esbern. Well, Etienne has returned to Riften, Malborn to Morrowind (he was at too much risk in Skyrim, now that the Thalmor are searching for him) and it is time for me to return to Delphine. I hope she's pleased with what I've found out._

_/_

_Delphine most certainly was pleased! She is delighted to find that Esbern, who is one of her old friends, is still alive. I am on my way to Riften with Lydia now, to find him. Apparently I should talk to someone called Brynjolf. He's 'well-connected' according to Delphine. Now what by the twin moons is that supposed to mean?_

_/_

_I found Brynjolf, and I also found what Delphine meant. To put it simply, Brynjolf is a thief, though he jokingly refers to himself as a 're-locater of goods.' He was more than happy to help, because Etienne is part of his outfit and mentioned me to him, though I did unfortunately have to prove my worth by landing an innocent Dunmer in the nick._

_Anyway, with the help of Brynjolf I found Esbern. He's been hiding out in the Ratway under the city for years. Lydia and I dealt with the Thalmor that were after him and helped him escape. We're on our way to Riverwood again, to find Delphine._

_/_

_Sky Haven Temple. It is beautiful. At first it was covered with spider webs and dust, but Esbern, Lydia, Delphine and I have tidied up the place and now it looks as amazing as it must have years ago._

_But what are we doing here? Well, Esbern took us here after it was found that it might hold valuable information about how to defeat Alduin- that's the big black nasty dragon that nearly killed me at Helgen, and resurrected Sahloknir. He appears to be a sort of dragon god. The ones that are attacking now are all following him._

_A Shout of some sort was used to defeat him in the days of old. I am spending the night here and will journey to High Hrothgar to ask the Greybeards for help tomorrow. Lydia will not be accompanying me. She has expressed a wish to become a Blade, and though she says she has had great adventures with me she feels like she belongs here in Sky Haven. I understand completely. I will miss her, but it's not as if she is leaving me forever. I will be back soon- hopefully with answers._

_/_

_I need a moment to get my head around this. The leader… of the Greybeards… is a dragon. A DRAGON. His name's Paarthurnax and he's about as old as the mountain he's living on, but he did teach me the Fire Breath shout and gave me some valuable information. The Shout used to defeat Alduin is called Dragonrend, but unfortunately Paarthurnax cannot teach it to me as it is made for mortals to use, not dragons. So now I'm on my way to the College of Winterhold to find out about something called an Elder Scroll. _

Paarthurnax! J'shana had learned Fire Breath from Paarthurnax, just as A'jira had. The dragon must be a lot older than A'jira had previously thought, if he'd been old five hundred years ago.

_They wouldn't let me into the college unless I agreed to join them. I think they're short of students. Fadomai's whiskers, I'm an archer, not a mage. Still, my fellow students, Onmund, Brelyna and J'zargo are nice, and they're giving me some good help. _

_Lessons are… stressful. I'm the worst there at magic and can hardly conjure a decent flame atronach without setting my fur on fire. J'zargo seems to think this is amusing. One of these days I'm going to tread on his tail._

_Anyway, I talked to the librarian about the Elder Scroll. He told me to talk to somebody called Septimus Signus. Unfortunately, I'm not allowed to leave the college until I've passed my first exam- eek- but after that I'm off to find the guy, no matter what. My pitiful attempts at magic are the laughing stock of the college._

_/_

_Exam tomorrow. Aargh. If I don't pass this I can't leave the college for another month, because I'll have to go over everything again before I can take the exam… DIVINES, IF YOU'RE WITH ME, PLEASE HELP ME. I CANNOT CAST SPELLS TO SAVE MY LIFE._

_/_

_Divines bless my fellow students. I would never have passed the thing without them. They knew that I was ripping my fur out with worry, so they stayed up all night with me helping me practice. With their aid, I finally managed to conjure a flame atronach without burning the room down. _

_Then it was the exam. I had to show off my skills in every different branch of magic. Messed up in Alteration. I did Oakflesh OK, but then I confused Magelight and Candlelight and got a light-orb stuck on Tolfdir's head._

_I thought I would have a breakdown in Conjuration, but I got a good Bound Bow, captured the soul of a skeever, and, after a few attempts, managed to get a flame atronach that didn't set the entire college on fire. (YES!)_

_Destruction went well. Fireball nearly blew Faralda's head off, but I got a nice Lightning Bolt and an even better Ice Spike. First time, too! _

_Illusion was… all right. Shouldn't have demonstrated Fury, though. Some of it hit Ancano and we had trouble calming him down. Muffle was nice. Dead useful. Might use it a bit more for sneaking up on dragons…_

_And finally Restoration. I managed a pretty good Lesser Ward, gave a decent demonstration of Healing and Healing Hands, and finally managed to round it off with Turn Lesser Undead. And yes, I passed! Thank you, divines. And thank you, Onmund, Brelyna and J'zargo._

_I am now getting out of this blasted college as quickly as possible and finding Septimus Signus before I go insane. I AM NOT A MAGE. I AM AN ARCHER AND I AM STAYING THAT WAY. Magic is far too… magicky… for my liking._

_/_

_Found Spetimus Signus. Apparently getting the Elder Scroll will involve going into a Dwemer ruin. This does not sound promising._

_/_

_I have the scroll, but I now officially hate Dwemer._

_/_

_DAMN! DAMN DAMN DAMN AND DAMN AGAIN! DAMN EVERY SCALE ON THAT OVERGROWN FLYING LIZARD'S BODY! I had him! I had the murdering beast and he slipped through my fingers._

_But look on the bright side. Alduin can run, but he cannot hide- not forever, at any rate. And I have Dragonrend! I have a shout that can rip a dragon from the sky. I am sure this is not something I will regret._

_Unfortunately this has created a problem. I now, for reasons too complicated to explain, need to capture a dragon. In Dragonsreach. Yes, capture a dragon. His name's Odahviing and he's Alduin's second in command._

_And as if that wasn't bad enough, the Jarl refused to do such a thing while Whiterun is under threat of invasion. Curse the Civil War all the way to Black Marsh! Now I have to somehow get Ulfric Stormcloak and General Tullius to come to a peace treaty._

_Now let me tell you something, diary- I think defeating Alduin will be easier than getting Tullius and Ulfric to agree on anything._

_/_

_To my joy, I am no longer alone on my ventures. I have found another friend. His name is Derkeethus and he is an Argonian I found imprisoned underground by Falmer on my way to Windhelm. I freed him and earned his loyalty. They say that once an Argonian trusts you, they will never leave your side. From what I've seen of Derkeethus, this will certainly be true. He didn't bat an eyelid when I told him I am Dragonborn. He did look slightly doubtful when I told him I was trying to make peace between the Stormcloaks and Imperials, but who can blame him? I have doubts too. I have much more than doubts._

_/_

_All right, so we're half done. Ulfric has agreed to come and Derkeethus and I are now on our way to Solitude to ask Tullius to do the same._

_Derkeethus is marvellous. I have to say that. We were beset by a dragon on our journey, but he hardly batted an eyelid, he simply filled it so full of arrows it looked like a scaly pincushion. I used Dragonrend on it to bring it down, followed by Marked For Death- a useful Shout that weakens an opponent's defences. Then Keeth (that's my pet name for Derkeethus, since it would take so long to shout 'Derkeethus, behind you, you scaly idiot!' in a battle that by the time I'd finished he'd already be dead) and I shot him until he was killed. I took his soul- this definitely got Keeth very impressed- and his scales and a few of his bones, then we carried on to Solitude as if nothing had happened. Since when did being Dragonborn become so normal?_

_/_

_Yes! Tullius has agreed to come and we're heading back to High Hrothgar. I have another worry now, thought. Both Tullius and Ulfric attempted to recruit me into their respective armies. I declined both, of course, but it got me thinking… how much longer can Derkeethus and I go without picking a side in this war?_

_/_

_Well, that went as well as could be expected. I think._

_Ok, so Ulfric got the hump about five seconds in- understandable, since Tullius brought that little sabre cat Elenwen along with him. I sympathised completely- not just because of my own experiences with Elenwen, but because I read in one of the Thalmor dossiers I found that Elenwen captured Ulfric and tortured him halfway to death. That does kind of make you entitled to dislike people. However I requested that Elenwen be allowed to stay, as I felt she was entitled to make sure that nothing that happened violated her precious Piebald Accordion thing. You know, that contract about Nords not worshipping Talos and so on… anyway. _

_I was rather surprised when people started playing pass-the-parcel with cities. Eventually the Stormcloaks ended up with Markath (I honestly don't care what happens to that place. I hate Markath. Bad things always seem to happen when I go there) and the Imperials with Dawnstar. Tullius wasn't happy with that, but he can go and eat skeevers. Vengeance is mine at last, Tully-wully, for trying to lop my head off._

A'jira burst out laughing.

'What's so funny?' Zaran muttered. 'You woke me up.'

'Nothing. Go back to sleep.'

_Derkeethus was absolutely wonderful. Just as it looked like Ulfric and Tullius were about to come to blows, he leaped out of his seat. 'Oh, for the sake of the Hist!' he roared. 'Will you stop arguing? You're like a pair of hatchlings! Now listen to me, you skeever-brained fools- neither of you two is better than the other. _You _(he pointed at Ulfric)_ _keep my people living in slums and _you _(he pointed at Tullius) forbid this land's people from worshipping their own god. Each of you is as bad as each other, so sit down and SHUT THE HIST UP!'_

_There was a rather pregnant pause. Then, to my utter amazement and delight, Tullius and Ulfric sat down and shut up._

_Unfortunately, Galmar, who appears to be Ulfric's second in command, wasn't going to be that easily persuaded. 'I don't take orders from beasts,' he growled._

_Derkeethus didn't even blink. 'And don't take orders from people wearing dead bears on their heads.'_

_At this point I had to cover my mouth with my tail to stop myself from laughing._

_Eventually- after a long, typical 'now, now, children, let's play nicely' speech from Esbern- everyone settled down and agreed to a truce. Oh, thank Ahnurr, Fadomai, S'rendarr and everyone else who's listening! Now I can capture a dragon in peace._

_Actually, looking at it like that, I'm beginning to wish that Keeth hadn't bothered. HOW IN THE NAME OF OBLIVION AM I MEANT TO CAPURE A DRAGON?_

_/_

… _like I just did, apparently. He was surprisingly easy to capture. And even better, he seemed positively eager to help me!_

_So now I'm writing this from the back of a dragon. Yes, you just read that right, from the back of a dragon. Keeth and I are on our way to a place called Skuldafn to access Alduin's portal to Sovngarde- because it appears that's where he's skulking. Told you he couldn't hide forever._

_Odahviing didn't want Keeth to come, he said that having one mortal ride him was embarrassing enough, but Derkeethus was insistent and eventually Odahviing gave way. He did warn us, though, that Keeth wouldn't be able to accompany me to Sovngarde. That, apparently, is a path that I must walk alone._

_I wish he could come. I can't stop thinking about how amazing he was fighting that dragon, and at the peace talk. I've never met anyone else with the guts to call General Tullius and Ulfric Stormcloak a pair of skeever-brained fools. I'm so glad I met him. If only he could go to Sovngarde with me… I don't think I can do it alone. But no, it's impossible. Still, I wish he could…_

_/_

_Keeth and I are taking a rest before we venture further into Skuldafn. We don't have far to go until the portal. It's guarded by several dragons and a dragon priest, but I'm sure we can take on them together._

_But then the time will come to part ways. Odahviing is waiting by the entrance to take Derkeethus to the Throat of the World, because that's where I'll be sent when… if… I return from Sovngarde, apparently._

_I think we both know this may be the last time we see each other. What happens if you die in the land of the dead? I don't want to find out. But I know I might. _

_This really is it. The next time I write, Alduin will be dead- or I will never write again at all._

_Derkeethus… if you're reading this… I'm probably dead. I just want you to know how much your friendship has meant to me in the last few weeks. I would never have made it this far without you._

_/_

_It is over. My destiny is fulfilled; Alduin is dead._

_Along with the Nord heroes of old, I fought him in Sovngarde. He fought furiously, but I knew I could not be defeated- not when I had to return to Nirn, to my beloved Skyrim, to Derkeethus._

_Dragonrend ripped him from the sky. Marked For Death weakened him. My arrow took his life. His body exploded into a thousand pieces. He is gone, really gone. Maybe now Skyrim will have peace._

_I returned to Nirn with a final gift from the Sovngarders- a Shout to summon a Sovngarde hero to my aid. I arrived at the Throat of the World to find them all waiting for me- Paarthurnax, Odahviing, and of course, Derkeethus._

_Paarthurnax is going to try and make the dragons follow him. I hope he succeeds; I think he will. Most of the dragons, it seems, were unhappy under Alduin's tyranny. Now maybe they will be at peace. _

_Odahviing has sworn his allegiance- from now on, I only need to call, and he will come._

_Oh, and I've conveniently forgotten to mention to Ulfric and Tullius that Alduin is dead. Maybe this peace treaty can be extended a little, ha ha._

_Alduin dead, the dragons with a new leader, the civil war on hold, a dragon as a friend and the best Argonian in the universe at my side… I don't think life gets much better than this._

_/_

_Apparently I spoke too soon. Delphine and Esbern want me to kill Paarthurnax._

_During the dragon war, apparently, he was Alduin's right-wing dragon. I went to Paarhturnax to ask him about this. I have to say, that dragon is one amazing persuasive speaker. 'What is better?' he asked me. 'To be born good, or to overcome your own evil nature through great effort?' _

_Of course he is right, but now what can I do? If I can't persuade Delphine that Paarthurnax is a friend, I don't want to think about what might happen. And what about Lydia? Whose side will she be on?_

_Oh, Divines… what do I do?_

_/_

_Derkeethus is a divine gift. Of that I am certain. Without him, I'd never have got Delphine to realise that Paarthurnax is on our side. He told Delphine in no uncertain terms that Paarthurnax had twice her courage and thrice her intelligence. Without him, Keeth told her, Alduin would still be at large, so unless she wanted our land to be ruled by a big black flying lizard with a passion for murdering innocent people, she had better shut up._

_Delphine shut up._

_So now everything is calmed down between Paarthurnax and the Blades. Lydia is happy with the Blades, she says, but she wishes there were a few more members. I will have to see if I can do anything about that. New mission: find new recruits for the Blades. Dragonslayers are needed now- those dragons that refused to follow Paarthurnax are attacking hard and fast._

_/_

_By the twin moons! I am Thane of the Rift! Derkeethus expressed a wish to visit a cousin of his, Wujeeta, who works at the Riften fishery. When we found her, she begged us for help. She had become addicted to Skooma._

_Let me say right now- my kind may be resistant to the ill effects of Skooma, but I have never touched a drop of the vile stuff and never intend to. I gladly gave Wujeeta a healing potion to cure her addiction. She was incredibly grateful and told us who the dealer was who sold her the Skooma. I talked to the Jarl and she said if I could eliminate the dealers there might well be a reward in it for me._

_So I went to the warehouse and killed the dealer, only to find that he got it from a second dealer who lived in a cave in the back of beyond. Keeth and I went to the cave and wiped out the bandits there. Laila Law-giver, the Jarl of Riften, was so grateful that she proclaimed me Thane then and there._

_So I now am Thane of two holds, have two houses, and two Housecarls- even if one is working and living with the Blades. Honeyside is a nice house, nicer I think than Breezehome, my house in Whiterun, so Derkeethus and I have made it our home. Iona, our new Housecarl, has been a great help fitting out the new house and introducing us to the locals. She will be a good friend, I am sure._

_Keeth and I are off to the Bee and Barb for a drink. We've earned it. _

_/_

_We have our first Blades recruit! Kharjo is a member of one of the Khajiit caravans. After we found his moon amulet for him, he offered us anything we wanted. We told him about the Blades and asked if he'd like to join. You should have seen his face light up!_

_So Kharjo has moved into Sky Haven, and the Blades are beginning to be re-created. However, I think that I will never be able to become a full-time member like Kharjo and Lydia. My home is in Honeyside, not Sky Haven, no matter how much I love the place._

_/_

_Derkeethus and I have struck a deal with the Jarl of Riften. Since we're adventurers, we find some pretty valuable stuff. With Brand-Shei in jail (and I still feel really guilty about that) there's an extra stall in the marketplace. So now, when we get back from killing dragons or bandits or what have you, we head over to the stall and sell it. It's bringing in a lot of gold, I'll tell you that._

_For the first time I've started thinking about my future now my destiny is fulfilled. I want to stay an adventurer- I belong destroying the evil and defending those who need defending. I could never settle down and hang up my bow and quiver. But I do like my life now, questing with Keeth and then returning home and selling the spoils. It's nice to change out of armour once in a while and put my feet up._

_Derkeethus feels the same way, he says. He really is the most wonderful friend. I don't know what I'd do without him. I think that I would die if he ever left my side._

_/_

_Today it is exactly one year since I arrived in Skyrim. And I am the happiest Khajiit on the face of this planet._

_This morning we killed an elder dragon that was attacking the Riften stables. We were awoken by someone hammering on our door. 'Dragonborn! Dragonborn! There's a dragon at the stables! Please help!' I threw myself out of bed, shoved on my armour so quickly I got it on back to front at first, grabbed by bow, woke up Derkeethus and Iona and raced out of the door. We arrived at the stables to find Hofgrir, Shadr, Sigaar and the horses fighting for their lives. Dragonrend and Marked For Death served me as well as ever, and soon the beast was dead. _

_After everyone had finished gawping at its dead body and my having absorbed its soul, the crowd dispersed and I sent Iona to tell the Jarl the danger was past. She went, leaving Derkeethus and I alone._

_It was very sudden. Then and there, out of the blue, Derkeethus turned to me and asked me to marry him. He said he'd loved me right from the start, from the moment I rescued him from those Falmer. He loved me even more when he saw how fiercely I thought to defend Skyrim. 'All the things you did,' he told me. 'You didn't do a single one for personal gain, only that others might live.'_

_He'd brought the Amulet of Mara the day before but hadn't put it on yet. He'd worn it today but of course I didn't notice, what with a dragon attacking us and everything. So he had to just ask. And I said yes. Of course I said yes! Because I do love Derkeethus. I can't believe it took me this long to realise. _

_We plan to be married a week from now. This will give us time to arrange everything and invite everyone we want. My excitement makes me feel like a little girl again. _

_A week from now and I will be a married woman._

_/_

_Three days to go. We've found a beautiful wedding dress in Radiant Raiment in Solitude, and some fine clothes for Derkeethus too. They're dark blue and make him look even more handsome than he usually does. I've invited so many people I've lost count- I hadn't realised just how many friends I have! It's wonderful to realise that no matter how many enemies I make, I'll always have friends wherever I need them. Ralof and his family are coming, as are Delphine, Esbern, Lydia and Kharjo. A lot of our friends in Riften, too- Iona, Mjoll and Aerin, Madesi, Keerava and Talen-Jei, Wujeeta, Etienne, Brynjolf (he keeps trying to recruit me into his guild, but I'll make him give up one day) and many more. Even Laila Law-giver and Jarl Balgruuf are coming! _

_I'm not sure what's going to happen with Mjoll and Brynjolf. She HATES the Thieves Guild. And Bryn isn't too keen on her, either._

_I don't care. This wedding is going to go well. I just know it._

_/_

_The wedding is tomorrow. I can't sleep tonight._

_/_

_If I spent the rest of my life trying to find the right word for how happy I feel, I know I would never manage it. The wedding was wonderful. Mjoll restrained herself from trying to kill Brynjolf, practically everyone we invited turned up, and Maramal arrived on time for once. _

_We held a party at Honeyside afterwards. I've lost count of the number of times people have congratulated me today. I think quite a lot of people- Bryn, Mjoll, Talen-Jei, Wujeeta, Ralof and Balgruuf, to name but a few, had a little too much mead. I must say, I got a little miffed when I heard Iona and Lydia talking about experiences under their 'crazy Thane.' After the third chorus of 'Ragnar the Red' (the drunken, out of tune version) by Ralof and Brynjolf, I decided it was time to turf everyone out and get a bit of peace. _

_So now it's just me and Keeth. Me and the man I love. I was wrong in that entry after I defeated Alduin. This. This is the best that life gets._

A'jira smiled as she turned the page. She could almost feel J'shana's happiness burning from the page.

Most of the following entries were accounts of dragon hunting with Derkeethus and the Blades, and settling into married life. A'jira didn't pay much attention until an entry a little less than a year after J'shana's marriage.

_I am expecting a child! It was completely unplanned and unexpected. A total surprise. But a nice surprise though. You don't get surprises nicer than this sort._

_Derkeethus is as delighted as I am. He's eager to start building an extension on Honeyside immediately so that we'll have enough room. It's wonderful to see him so excited. I think he might be even more excited than I am._

A'jira smiled wider at that, but it was the next entry that caught her eye and set her heart racing.

_I had a strange dream tonight. I dreamt I was standing at the summit of the Throat of the World, looking out over Skyrim. I heard a voice behind me. Alduin's voice. The words were in Dragon, but I understood them. 'I am not beaten, _Dovahkiin.'

_Then I was flying, flying like a dragon over the land. All the people I've ever known in my life- from my parents and little sister to Ulfric Stormcloak and General Tullius, to my fellow College students and my beloved Derkeethus, shouted up to me as I flew over them, calling out warnings and prophecies of danger to come. Then suddenly a voice was speaking in my mind, in my own tongue, Ta'agra- '__The world eater will come three times. The first time, he will be banished. The second time, he will be defeated. The third time, he will be destroyed.'_

_Suddenly I was in Sovngarde, fighting Alduin. I kept running towards him, but I never got any nearer. Eventually he laughed and took off into the sky, disappearing from view behind the stars. The heroes of Sovngarde came running towards me, shouting something I cannot remember. And then suddenly all of that was gone and I was standing next to a young female Khajiit. She looked very much like me, but she was younger- about ten and six summers- and less battle-scarred. But her eyes were the same as mine- bright amber, like the early morning sun._

_She turned to me and looked right into my eyes. 'I will carry on your legacy,' she whispered, then she vanished and I awoke._

_I don't feel ready to tell anyone about this yet. I'll tell Keeth soon. He probably won't be able to explain it, but he'll be a comfort to me as always. Soon I will go to High Hrothgar and ask Arngeir for help. Paarthurnax too. If they can't explain it, nobody can._

A'jira froze, staring in blank shock at the book in her hands. Her ancestor. Had dreamed. Of her. Five hundred years before she had even been born.

She was certain it was her J'shana had seen. Who else could it have been? She matched her ancestor's description exactly. But how was that even possible?

Before she could dwell on it any more, Odahviing gave a small roar and started to descend from the sky. Looking down, A'jira saw that they were above a small stone temple, built in a perfect circle. She didn't see any more, because the red dragon went into a dive, and his huge wings obscured everything else from view. Then there was a thud, and they were no longer flying.

'Is this it?' A'jira was wary of the answer.

'_Geh,' _Odahviing growled.

A'jira turned and flicked her tail into Zaran's face to wake him up. 'We're here,' she hissed.

'What?' he mumbled blearily, opening his eyes.

A'jira slid J'shana's book back into her pocket and looked around her. 'Dragonborn Barrow,' she answered. 'We're here.'

* * *

**Wow, this chapter is long! I honestly didn't intend for it to be that long. It just sort of happened.**

**Apologies to any offended Imperial supporters, but as J'shana escaped Helgen with Ralof when I played, I don't know what happens when you go with Hadvar, so I had to do it with Ralof. Other than this, J'shana is entirely neutral on the Civil War, for the purposes of this story anyway.**

**I know that some things here are not accurate. For example, J'shana couldn't have got Marked For Death without access to the Dark Brotherhood. But let's just pretend it was on some other word wall, OK? And I know there's no way to be friends with Paarthurnax and the Blades at the same time, but J'shana's the sort of person who would never want to make enemies of either. So if you have found any inaccuracies and are dying to tell me all about them, please don't, because they're probably intentional.**

**Reviews are the best encouragement ever! Hint hint.**


	11. Dragonborn Barrow

**Welcome to Chapter Eleven. Before I get started, I know some people are worrying about the time gap, so here is why I chose 500 years rather than a smaller or larger amount. I knew that Skyrim would probably develop a lot if it was 1000 years or something, so that was out, because I wanted it to be basically the same as in the game. I originally intended the gap to be two hundred years, but then I realised that this might not be a long enough time for people to completely forget about J'shana and the truth of what happened to defeat Alduin. So that's why I chose 500 years. Hope this makes sense!**

**Anyway, another thank you to my reviewers, and on with the story.**

* * *

Chapter Eleven- Dragonborn Barrow

Date: 10th of Sun's Height

Location: Dragonborn Barrow

It was snowing. The flakes danced and spun through the air, settling on the ground, the roof of the temple, Zaran's robes, A'jira's fur, Odahviing's scales- on everything in sight. The wind howled like an injured soldier as it swept over the mountaintops, blowing the swirling clouds of snow into the faces of the three creatures that stood at the entrance to the temple.

A'jira turned slowly on the spot, taking in her surroundings. Odahviing was right. The barrow's position, with an insurmountable cliff on one side and an enormous, jagged peak on the other, made it impossible to reach from the ground. No man, elf or beast would be able to enter this temple without riding a dragon. Not unless they had a horse than could climb up a near-vertical cliff face.

The temple itself was enough to take A'jira's breath away. The roof was held up by a circle of pillars, carved in the shape of dragons. No two were the same. Every wing, scale, horn, eye and jet of flame was perfectly carved. Not a single detail was out of place. And the ceiling of the temple… walking underneath it, A'jira and Zaran stared up at it with wide eyes. It was so covered in carvings that there was hardly an inch of spare space. Examining it, A'jira realised that it was the story of J'shana's life, carved in a spiral. At the beginning, at the very edge, was a Khajiit crouching behind a bush, as if hiding, with a group of Imperial soldiers nearby. The next image was the same Khajiit in a horse-drawn carriage, with three other, less discernible, figures. Then J'shana rested her head on the block as Alduin appeared from behind a mountain; she was battling Draugr in an underground tomb; she was killing a dragon; she was absorbing a dragon's soul. The very final picture showed her standing triumphant over the dead body of Alduin, bow held high above her head.

'This must have taken years to do,' A'jira breathed.

'In those days, everyone knew who the _dovahkiin _had been,' Odahviing growled. 'They respected her. They remembered her. They wished to honour her.'

It was heartbreaking to think that J'shana had done so much and been remembered by so few. 'I'll make her remembered,' A'jira vowed solemnly. 'One day, I'll make sure that all of Skyrim knows that my ancestor was the one who gave them their freedom.'

Zaran nodded. 'Once you have defeated Alduin, who will be able to argue with you?'

Odahviing spread his wings. 'It is time I returned to the _Monahven,_' he rumbled. 'I can be of no use to you here. I wish you luck on your quest.'

'Thank you, Odahviing,' A'jira said, dipping her head to the dragon who had saved her life so many times. 'Thanks for everything you did for me.'

'It was my duty,' Odahviing replied simply.

'I must thank you, too,' Zaran told him. 'Had you not led A'jria to me, I would be dead.'

Odahviing gave him a long look that could have meant anything. 'That, too, was my duty. But now my duty lies elsewhere. Fare thee well, _Dovahkiin, _and you too, _jel!' _he roared, taking to the air.

'May Talos walk with you, Odahviing!' A'jira called as he lifted into the sky.

'And the Hist guide you!' Zaran added.

Odahviing roared in reply, then made a graceful swoop over the temple and soared over the edge of the cliff. Within seconds, his powerful wings had carried him out of sight.

Zaran sat down on the temple floor with a long sigh. 'My back aches as if a mammoth were standing on it. Never again will I ride anything- be it horse or dragon!'

A'jira laughed. 'Do you want to take a break before we go inside?' She gestured to the entrance of the temple: a staircase beginning at the centre of the circle that was the temple floor and spiralling downwards into the earth.

'I would be very grateful if we could.'

A'jira sat down beside him and rested her back against a pillar. 'Can you tell me about your home?' she asked.

Zaran gave her a funny look. 'Why?'

'I'm just interested. I've never had a home or a family and I've always wondered what it must be like.'

Zaran gave a small chuckle. 'It's funny how you take such things for granted until you lose them, or until you meet someone who has never had them.' Closing his eyes, he too leaned back against the back of one of the stone dragons. 'I live in a small village near Archon with my father, who is a fisherman, and my mother, who is a weaver. I have a younger sister called Lumila, and she is the most annoying being to ever set foot on this world.'

A'jira grinned.

'My uncle is a mage, and it was he that first encouraged me to take an interest in magic. I was always thrilled by his spells and incantations, even when I was a hatchling. When I was seven summers old, he taught me my first spell. Flames. I was a fast learner, I suppose. By the time I was eight I could use Sparks, Healing and Candlelight. My father had always expected me to follow him into the fishing business, but when he realised I was set on becoming a mage he encouraged me to do so. I am lucky. I have a friend who wished to become a warrior, but his father would not allow him to leave home. I was worried that my father might do the same to me, but he helped me as much as he could and even bought be a set of robes for when I was old enough to study magic properly.' He stroked the soft blue fabric of his robes fondly.

'When I turned fifteen, it was decided that I should go and join a school of magic. My uncle studied, as I said, in the College of Winterhold, and he suggested that I go to Skyrim. I was not keen at first. Mountains, snow and people who as a rule mistrust my race did not appeal to me. But my uncle told me about how the College was where he had learned all he knew and that he was sure there was no finer one in Tamriel. So I packed my bag, donned my robes and set out. It has taken many months to get here, through Black Marsh and Cyrodiil, for I could not afford carriages much of the time. And many times I was beset by bandits, but I always was able to fight them off, until those ones on the Throat of the World.'

'What's it like in Black Marsh?'

'It is beautiful, or at least I think so.' Zaran smiled sadly. 'I know that some do not care for out dark woodlands and deep, dangerous marshes and swamps, but to me, they are home.'

A'jira closed her eyes. Home. Such an easy word, she was sure, for so many to take for granted. But it had a meaning far, far deeper than it seemed. Home was where you belonged, the place you returned to and lay down by the fire after a hard day of questing. Home was a place where you kept your heart. But A'jira had never had a home. The Riften Honorhall, the wilds of Skyrim, the splendour of Dragonsreach- none of them had felt like a home to her. Would she ever be as lucky as Zaran, with a home and a family? Even J'shana had had a family, even if she had been separated from them upon her arrival in Skyrim and had never seen them again. Her mother, her father, her sister… she had known them and loved them. A'jira would never know what that sort of bond felt like. And J'shana had had a home, too. She remembered how her ancestor had written of how she loved changing into ordinary clothes and living an ordinary life for a while, and a pang of sorrow ran through her. Would it ever be possible for her to have that simple gift that so many people never thought twice about?

If only she'd known her parents. If only they hadn't been killed. If only she'd had a home and a family. If only…

A'jira turned her head away, so that Zaran would not see the tears threatening to form in her eyes.

* * *

The only sound was the sound of their breathing and that of their footsteps echoing around the narrow stairwell. Had it not been for A'jira's night vision and Zaran's candlelight spell, neither of them would have been able to see a thing. As it was, even A'jira's eyes were having trouble making out the way. The stairs were fairly easy to follow, but A'jira was worried that there might be passages leading off the staircase that might lead them to their goal. If she didn't keep her eyes out, she might well miss them.

'What do you think is down here?' Zaran's voice bounced off the walls and ceiling. _Here? Here? Here?_

A'jira shrugged. 'I don't know, but I bet there'll be obstacles of some sort. J'shana wouldn't have wanted just anybody to be able to reach the Shout. There'll probably be monsters of some sort… puzzle doors… traps…'

'You ancestor couldn't have made it nice and easy for us, of course,' Zaran muttered.

'If this Shout is the only way to defeat Alduin, it makes sense that she'd have wanted it to be well guarded,' A'jira pointed out.

'Maybe.' There was a pause. 'What do you think that this Shout will do?'

'I honestly don't know.'

'It will be good, I think, if we must travel this far underground in order to find it.'

'I hope so.'

Suddenly the stairs stopped. A'jira peered into the gloom and was just able to make out a passage leading a head into the darkness. 'Could you give me another Candlelight spell?' she asked Zaran.

The Argonian obliged. 'I though Khajiit could see in the dark.'

'We can, but it still makes everything a little blurry.'

They continued down the corridor until suddenly their way was blocked. A large iron door blocked their path. A'jira scanned it for a lock, but there was none. It was a door without a handle.

'What in Talos's name-?' A'jira kicked the door, but it held firm. 'What's the point of a door without a handle?'

'There are words,' Zaran pointed out, moving closer to the door so that the glowing orb lit it up. He was right; there were words carved onto the door, covering almost its entire surface. Squinting, A'jira leaned in towards them to try and make them out. They were so tiny that in the darkness, she had to use her fingers to try and feel the letters as much as she used her eyes to see them. But the handwriting was unmistakable. The words on this door had been made by J'shana.

_This is Dragonborn Barrow._

_Deep within this tunnel is the place where I and my beloved Derkeethus will be laid to rest after our deaths. Paarthurnax and Odahviing have promised that they shall see it completed when I am dead. If you are here, reading this, it can only mean one thing- you are my descendent, the future Dragonborn, and Alduin has come again._

_If you are not, then you have no business here. Only a Dragonborn, or one in the company of a Dragonborn, can enter the barrow. If you are not a Dragonborn, or a friend of one, then leave, now. The dangers that lie down this tunnel are not to be faced by you._

_To my heir, I wish the best of luck. I have left a Shout for you in the place where my grave will one day be. I shall not tell you what it is, nor what it does. That is for you to discover. I only once tried this Shout myself. Once was enough. It is your only chance of defeating Alduin, for it has been foreseen that you must stand alone against him. Therefore you will need this Shout. You could, I suppose, face him without it- but you stand little chance alone without such a weapon. That is why I have entrusted this gift to you. Use it wisely, and well._

_I have also left other gifts. Now I am too old for adventuring. My fur is as silver as a newly-forged sword and my hands can hardly hold my bow. But that is all right. I have my husband, Derkeethus, I have my beautiful children, Ra'vasha and Meleetha, and it will not be long before I have my grandchildren too! I need nothing more- I am happy and content. I have no further need of my armour and my weapons. This was my final quest- to take them and many other things that I am sure you will find useful and store them in this barrow, along with the Shout which you will need. I have sealed the way. This door will open only for your Voice. _

_There are many more challenges in your path before you reach the centre of the barrow. Do not fear- the gifts I left for you will not have been disturbed. I can promise you that._

_This is but a small part of your task. Again, I wish you well, for there is so much danger in wait for you. But Odahviing and Paarthurnax will help you, and I am sure that you will have a friend at your side, just as I had Derkeethus._

_Enter the barrow now, and face what you find within. It will not be easy, but life is never easy._

_A final time, good luck. I look forward to meeting you. Perhaps it will be sooner than you think._

_May you walk on warm sands._

_J'shana._

A'jira straightened up. 'Thanks, J'shana,' she whispered.

'What does it say?' Zaran asked, casting another Candlelight spell.

'I think it will open to a Shout.'

Zaran hastily stepped backwards.

Squaring her shoulders, A'jira took a few paces away from the door and took a deep breath. '_Fus RO DAH!'_

It was the first time she had used the full Shout, and she instantly felt its power. It was exactly what it was named, pure, unstoppable, unrelenting force. It struck the door with enough strength to tear a normal door off its hinges. The door glowed upon impact, then slid aside, revealing a narrow passageway that vanished into unfathomable blackness.

'Now, doesn't that look like a whole load of fun?' Zaran muttered sarcastically.

'Can't be any worse than Ulfgard,' A'jira shrugged.

'It does not look like the sort of place to have warm fires and friendly faces inside,' Zaran pointed out. 'More likely monsters and undead and incarnations of evil.'

'Well. We'll just have to see.' A'jira tried to hide her nervousness as she ventured into the tunnel. 'I doubt there'll be anything life-threatening. I mean, J'shana wanted to test us, not kill us.'

'Um… A'jira?'

'Yes?'

'You may want to rethink that.'

Putting his finger to his lips to signal her to be silent, he pointed up the passage. A'jira followed his finger and her eyes widened slightly. Her hand flew to her shoulder, drawing her bow and loading it in a few seconds. She racked her brains, trying to put a name to the thing at the end of the corridor, but found she could not.

'Do you know what it is?' she hissed to Zaran, keeping her voice low.

He shook his head in reply, and quickly switched his spells to his preferred combat ones, fireball and lightning bolt. A'jira readied her arrow.

The creature turned, and that was when A'jira realised it was not a creature at all. Nobody could mistake it for a beast of flesh and blood. The name sprung to her in a flash- a name she had found in J'shana's diary while they rested outside the barrow before venturing inside. A dwarven sphere.

What had her ancestor said about them? A'jira struggled to remember. One of the many mechanical guardians of the ancient Dwemer ruins, they were fast, powerful and deadly. The Dwemer had created them to guard their homes from outsiders. They had no souls, no reason, and no mercy. What was one doing here? This wasn't a Dwemer ruin. The only logical explanation was that J'shana had brought it here to guard the barrow. And it wasn't intending to let them pass without a fight.

It started to move towards them in a manner that was somewhere between a roll and a lurch. A'jira's arrow ricocheted uselessly of its metal plates. With a frustrated hiss, she tried again. This time, she aimed for the gap between the plates on its chest. This time the arrow stuck home and the sphere was temporarily knocked back a little.

A'jira noticed that the tunnel was not as narrow as she'd first thought. There was a wide area up ahead. No doubt it had been made on purpose, so that anyone who encountered the sphere could fight it without being pinned against the wall. 'Zaran! Over here!' she yelled, thanking Talos for the agility of the Khajiit as she made a flying leap right over the sphere's head and landed in the wider part of the passage up ahead.

Quickly she ran through what J'shana had written about them. _I've found that the best way to fight a Sphere is to trap it between two of you. While it focuses on one, the other can attack. It's usually Keeth who does the head- on fighting, because he's the best with close-range weapons while I'm the better archer. The golden rule is to never let it get too close to you! If it pins you against a wall, you've had it. Keep your distance and you'll come out fine. The trick is to shoot the back of its head- that way you can hit the soul gem that powers it. Do that, and the machinery that keeps it running will instantly fail. _*

'Zaran! Try and gets its attention! Don't let it get near you! I'm going to try and shoot it from behind.' A'jira fired three times in quick succession, hitting its arm, chest and head. At the same time, Zaran hurled a fireball at it. For a moment it wavered between the two of them, as if deciding which to attack, before trundling towards Zaran at full speed. As it lunged, A'jira realised that its right arm had been made into a blade, so that it and its weapon were one. The sphere slashed at Zaran's head, but the Argonian jumped back just in time and blasted it with lightning. It drew back again to attack, exposing the back of its head. A'jira took careful aim, slowing down her breathing and letting the rest of the world drop away until nothing existed except her, her bow, and the sphere. As she breathed out, she fired.

The arrow sliced through the air and smashed into the back of the sphere's head. It punched a tiny hole through the metal and there was a loud sound- afterwards A'jira always referred to it as a _ping-clang-smash_ – as it struck the vital machinery inside. The sphere teetered, then fell backwards onto the floor, no more deadly than a sword made of cotton. Its head rolled off its body and came to a rest at A'jira's feet. She picked it up and retrieved her arrow.

'Nicely done,' she told Zaran.

'Thank you. You fought well too. That was a good shot.'

'Cheers.'

A'jira pulled apart the back of the sphere's head and found a tangle of complex bits of metal and cogs, along with a pale lilac gem. Her arrow had made a small hole through the crystal, but other than that it was undamaged. It was hard to believe that the small object could power something as powerful and deadly as the sphere. 'Want this?' she asked, tossing it to Zaran. He pocketed it with a broad smile.

'Thank you, friend. I am sure I will find many uses for it. These are of much use for enchanting.'

A'jira examined the rest of the useless scrap of metal that had once been a lethal killer, but apart from a few bent pieces of metal, there was nothing useful. 'I guess we'd better press on,' she suggested.

Zaran nodded his agreement.

The two of them continued into the darkness. For a moment, A'jira was reminded of Ulfgard. Widen the tunnel, replace the remains of the sphere with the corpse of a Draugr, switch the Argonian walking by her side for a Bosmer, and she could have been back there.

But A'jira was no longer the naïve young Khajiit girl who had entered Ulfgard all that time ago. Back then, she had run away from danger rather than towards it. She could never have tackled a dragon in a thousand years. But in the moment that she had agreed to accompany Faenlor into Ulfgard, everything had changed. She was stronger, braver, quicker, wiser. If her path led into danger and mortal peril, then let it lead there.

A'jira was ready to face it.

* * *

'Die, beast!'

Confused, the frostbite spider turned away from A'jira and towards Zaran, who had shouted the words. It launched a ball of venom at his head, but he ducked the attack and responded by sending a fireball at it. A'jira took advantage of its distraction to shoot it in the back. It keeled over onto its back, its spindly legs sticking up into the air.

'One down, two to go!' A'jira hurdled the body and took aim at the second spider. For the past hour, maybe more, she and Zaran had slowly progressed through the barrow. As A'jira had suspected, J'shana had made security her top priority. As they'd made their way to the large, circular chamber where they now were, they'd encountered one ice wraith, two wolves, a sabre cat, a second dwarven sphere, and now the three frostbite spiders, along with various traps and puzzle doors. If it hadn't been for Zaran's healing spells, A'jira doubted they would have made it this far. But they were here now, and she didn't have time to dwell on their good luck when there were two large arachnids really rather intent on killing them.

A ball of poison narrowly missed her face as she ducked behind a piece of rubble and took aim. Her arrow struck perfectly in one of the creature's eight eyes. It gave a squeal and backed away, giving Zaran time to finish it off with a well-aimed ice spike. The third, seeing what had become of its companions, turned and started to scuttle away, but two arrows and a lightning bolt hit it before it got ten paces, sending it spinning lifelessly into the wall.

A'jira straightened up, replacing the arrow she had been about to fire in her quiver. 'Thank Talos that's over. I hate those things.'

'I will second that.' Zaran kicked the dead carcass of the first one to die scornfully.

'The only good thing about the stupid creatures is the poison.' A'jira knelt down by the nearest spider and pulled a small vial from the leather pouch at her waist where she carried most of her small, useful items. Holding it under the venomous mandible of the spider, A'jira let some of the poison trickle into the bottle. It might be useful if she ever found a need to poison an arrow.

'What time do you think it is?' Zaran's voice echoed and re-echoed around the chamber.

'It was early morning when we set out.' A'jira thought about the events of the day. 'We spent about an hour in High Hrothgar, than we set off with Odahviing after about another hour. I don't know how long the journey here took. But it was a long time. And then we rested for a bit outside. And we've been in here for an hour. I'd say it's about ten in the evening.'

'Time for a rest, then?'

A'jira nodded. 'This place wouldn't be too bad to sleep in if we moved the spiders.'

After five minutes of kicking the dead arachnids out into the corridor that led into the chamber, they rummaged through their bags for blankets and laid them out on the floor.

'I'll take first watch,' A'jira offered. 'When I think it's about halfway through the night, I'll wake you up and you can take over.'

'Sounds good.' Zaran gave a huge yawn and lay down. 'I feel as if I could sleep for a moon.'

A'jira sat down beside him, leaning against the wall, bow in hand in case anything turned up. 'How much further do you think we have to go?'

'Not too far, hopefully. The walking and fighting has made me weary.'

'How do you suppose the sabre cats and wolves and stuff got down here?'

'I would say that you ancestor brought their ancestors into the barrow.'

'Lonely place to live.'

'I doubt the sabre cats care.'

'I don't know. They may be animals, but they still have feelings, don't they? I guess everything has feelings. Even dragons. I mean, Paarthurnax and Odahviing do, don't they?'

'Mmm.'

'And I know I'd hate being stuck down here.'

Zaran opened his eyes. 'You are stuck down here.'

A'jira laughed. 'I know, but I can get out again, at least.'

Zaran blinked. 'I hope so.'

'If we could get in, we can get out.'

Zaran smiled. 'I like the way you have the logic that I lack.' He yawned again. 'I wonder what tomorrow will bring.'

'More monsters, probably. And hopefully the Shout. But who can say?'

'Who indeed?' Zaran closed his eyes again. 'You know… I'm glad you let me come with you.'

A'jira smiled. 'So am I.'

There was a pause.

'Goodnight, A'jira.'

'Goodnight, Zaran.'

After a few minutes, the sound of his breathing falling into a slow, dreamy rhythm told her that he had fallen asleep.

It was true, what she had said. She _was _glad that he was with her. And not just because it meant she got some sleep because there was someone to watch her back, or because of his healing spells or his skill in battle or the fact that she would feel so alone and vulnerable down here without him. It was because he was her friend.

As she sat there, looking at her sleeping companion, she realised that she felt something that she had never felt before in her entire life. Or rather, she didn't feel something.

She didn't feel alone any more.

* * *

***I partly made this up. The first part is true- I always get Derkeethus attacking Dwarven sphere while I shoot them from long range (sorry Keeth) – but the hitting the back of the head thing was something I invented. Dwarven Animunculi are however thought to be powered by soul gems, so it's partly true. **

* * *

**Hope this chapter doesn't seem short and half-hearted. It's hard writing chapters where the characters do practically nothing apart from walk down dark corridors. Because let's face it, a lot of Skyirm is walking down dark corridors and there's not an awful lot you can say about it. Next chapter will hopefully be a bit more exciting. **

**You know what I'm going to ask now, don't you? Review, please! **


	12. J'shana's Gift

**Hi, people! Great to see you're all still following the story. THANK YOU to everyone who's read it, and of course a bigger thank you to those who've reviewed it!**

**I've received a few questions about the presence of sabre cats and other animals in the barrow. I did explain in the last chapter but only very briefly so ****I guess I didn't go into enough detail. J'shana, or the people who finished the barrow after her death, put a couple of sabre cats down there along with a whole load of other creatures. Don't ask me how many or which ones, I don't know, I'm only the author. Anyway, there were enough sabre cats (and other animals too) and so on to keep several generations of them alive down there, preying off the other creatures.  
Hope that makes sense!**

**If anyone has any other questions regarding anything you don't understand, feel free to pm me and I'll get back to you with an explanation!**

**Oh, and for those of you waiting for some romance… it is coming. That's a promise. **

**Anyway, I'll shut up now. Here we go with Chapter Twelve…**

* * *

Chapter Twelve- J'shana's Gift

Location: Dragonborn Barrow

Date: 11th of Sun's Height

A'jira was awoken by the sound of a logs stirring and stirring in a fire. She opened her eyes and blinked a few times to bring the world into focus. Her body-clock told her that it was early morning, and though none of the dawn sunlight could penetrate this far underground, the chamber was brightly lit by several glowing orbs that were stuck to the walls. As she watched, one of them went out, and Zaran, who was sitting a little way off, poking at a fire he had clearly conjured himself, shot another one from his hand to take its place.

'Morning,' she called, and he looked up with a smile.

'Good morning, A'jira! It is good to see you awake. I think it is a few hours after dawn, but you were sleeping so peacefully I did not want to wake you. So I made us a fire and some breakfast.'

A'jira yawned, stretched, threw off her blanket and went to join him by the fireside. 'How did you make a fire without any wood?'

'There was plenty of wood.' Zaran gestured to an alcove in the wall harbouring a large chest A'jira hadn't noticed before. 'You ancestor was most considerate.'

'Must be pretty strong wood, to last five hundred years,' A'jira said suspiciously. Had someone already been down here?

'Probably some sort of enchantment on it,' Zaran said with a shrug as he held out a slightly burnt venison sausage. A'jira recognised it as one of the ones they'd taken from the bandit camp and hoped it would still be OK to eat. She took it anyway and wolfed it down in a few seconds.

'Did you have any trouble on your watch?' she inquired as she wiped her paws on her armour.

'Not a bit. There isn't so much as a chicken stirring out there.'

'Pity, really. We could do with a few.' A'jira took another sausage.

'Indeed. But livestock appears to be something J'shana did not supply us with.'

One of the glowing balls of light blinked out. Zaran replenished it without turning his head. 'So, today we find the centre of this place, if the Hist are kind.'

A'jira nodded. 'I think we'd better get going as quickly as possible. I don't want to spend one second more than I have to in this place. It's not as bad as Ulfgard was, but still…'

Zaran inclined his head in agreement. 'I have to say that I feel the same way. I miss the feeling of the wind on my scales and the sound of birdsong and the warmth of the sun.'

'Me too.' A'jira's tail twitched. She longed to see the sun and sky again, to hear the rustle of a breeze stirring the treetops, to smell the fresh, clean air of the outside world. She hated feeling like a cornered skeever down in the darkness like this.

They finished eating and packed up their things. Zaran extinguished the fire with a freezing spell. The summoned balls of light flickered out one by one as they shouldered their packs and set off once again into the darkness, Zaran casting Candlelight spells every minute.

As they made their way down the tunnel, A'jira found herself grappling with something she hadn't expected- boredom. In Ulfgard, she'd been so full of fear and adrenaline that she hadn't had time to be bored. But now, walking down a plain, long, dark passageway that seemed to never end no matter how fat they walked… it was tedious, hellishly so. A'jira almost wish that they would round the next bend to find a Dwarven Sphere or a frostbite spider or even a nest of skeevers- just something, anything, to break the monotony. From the way Zaran's brow was wrinkled with displeasure, she could tell he felt the same way.

'This is… dull,' he remarked after a while.

'Tell me about it.'

'I can't believe we have met no opposition yet.'

'I guess we will soon.'

'I most certainly hope so, strange as it may sound. Dark passages are very repetitive.'

The Candlelight spell vanished into the darkness, and Zaran cast another.

A short flight of steps- by far the most interesting thing that had happened since they set out- then the tunnel rounded a corner. And a second. Then a third. A'jira followed the twists and turns without a second thought. _Please, let this be over soon, _she thought. _Talos, Shor, __Mara, Dibella, Akatosh, divines, please let this be over soon…_

She looked up and stopped dead.

'By the blood of the Hist!' Zaran exclaimed furiously from behind her, and A'jira had to agree.

They had emerged into a round room. Ahead of them stretched a dark, forbidding tunnel, as cold and threatening as the mouth of a dragon. And to their left, a second. To their right, a third. And two more in between the other three. All identical. All potentially leading to their goal. All possibly a deadly trap.

'That's just _perfect,' _A'jira snarled. There was no indication of which way to go whatsoever. No markings or signs. Going down the wrong passage could mean death. But they had no way of knowing which one was right, and which were wrong.

Zaran approached the leftmost one and peered into it. 'Nothing moving down there.'

'There's nothing moving down any of them! They're all exactly the same.'

'But there must be some way of telling which one is the path to take. J'shana would not have made this puzzle for us to work out if we had no way of finding the answer.'

A'jira smiled. He was right. 'I thought you said I was the one with the logic!'

Zaran laughed. 'Come, we must think. What might she have left for us?'

The answer came to A'jira in a flash. Unable to believe she hadn't thought of it before, she wrenched J'shana's diary from her pocket and flicked to the last few pages, where she had written about the barrow. After finding out that Alduin was not yet defeated, J'shana had written a few pages of advice for the dragonborn of the future on some separate pieces of parchment, and stuffed them into the back of the book. One of them had been written many years after the others, after the barrow had been made. A'jira skimmed through it quickly, pausing at a likely-looking paragraph.

_Dragonborn barrow is dangerous. I make no secret of that. I've placed several monsters down there, and none of them will take kindly to your presence. You'll need this diary if you want to make it through. I suppose it would be possible without, but if you want to make it out alive you'll need what's written here. After all, you'll need to pay with your blood to get through, and only the right path will lead you to my resting place, and the Shout._

Excited, she looked at the next paragraph, but it had nothing to do with the barrow. Confused, she turned over the piece of parchment, but there was no other advice.

'Have you found something?' Zaran peered over her shoulder.

'I'm not sure.' A'jira held out the parchment.

Her friend frowned. 'She would not say _you'll need what's written here _and then not write anything. She must have left a clue for us in that paragraph- we only need to find it. Something there will tell us how to find out which way to go.'

Again, he was right. But what was the use of him being right if they had nothing to show for it? _Talos, help us! _she pleaded silently. _Show us the right way!_

_The right way._

A'jira's whiskers began to twitch with excitement. An idea formed in her mind, as clear and obvious as if Talos had heard her prayer, opened her head and dropped the thought inside. She read the paragraph again. There was no doubt about it.

'You're half right,' she told Zaran, a grin forming on her face. 'The clue's here. But it's not telling us how to find out which tunnel we go down. It's telling us which tunnel to go down.'

'It is?'

A feeling of triumph inside her, A'jira ran a talon along the sentence which held the answer.

_Only the right path will lead you to my resting place._

'Only the right path,' she said proudly. 'The _right _path, Zaran!'

For a moment, the frown remained glued to his features. Then he caught on and smiled. 'Of course. The right path- she did not only mean the way that was safe to go, but the rightmost path… that one.' He pointed. 'Why, the answer was staring us in the face! Hidden in plain sight… I cannot believe I could not see it. You were most clever indeed to work that out, A'jira.'

'Not really.' Blushing, A'jira looked at the floor.

Zaran looked at her with amusement. 'Well, now we know which way is for us. Onwards, then.'

'Onwards it is.' A'jira folded the parchment, replaced it inside J'shana's diary, and returned the book to her pocket. She led the way over to the right-hand tunnel and started to descend the steps that led into it.

_Thank you, Talos, _she thought with a smile. _And thank you, J'shana._

* * *

An hour later, A'jira heard it. It filled her ears, then her head, then her entire body, whispering to the very essence of her being. Chanting. In an ancient, bygone language that had been long lost to the centuries. The language of Dragonkind.

'We're almost here!' she burst out excitedly. She sped up almost unconsciously, her paws thudding on the cold stone floor. She could faintly hear Zaran running after her, but all her attention was focused on the voices up ahead. She ran around a corner and skidded to a halt.

It was a dead end.

'What in Talos's name-' A'jira approached the massive boulder that blocked her way and pressed her ear against it. She could hear the voices chanting, just the other side- three words too faint to make out. But how to move the boulder?

Zaran came up behind her and gave a short hiss as he saw the rock. 'Are you sure we went the right way?'

'Positive. I can hear the voices. The Shout's just beyond this rock.'

'Then the rock must be moved. If you stand behind me, I will see if I can stir it.'

A'jira nodded and moved back, allowing Zaran to stand in front of the boulder. He charged up a lightning bolt spell and hurled it at the rock with full force- but it didn't so much as shift a whisker-length. Looking as confused as A'jira felt, he stepped back.

A'jira narrowed her eyes and regarded the boulder. It was perfectly shaped to fit the tunnel. Suddenly she wondered if it was actually a real boulder. Looking at it, she realised it wasn't the same sort of stone as the rest of the walls. It wasn't a rock, but a door- a secret door. She was certain of it. But that just raised another question- how in the name of Talos did they get it open? There were no levers, no buttons, no pull chains. She must have overlooked something- but what?

Her mind flew back to one of the many pieces of advice Faenlor had given her on their way to Ulfgard. She smiled as she pictured the elf's stern but still friendly face. His voice sounded in her mind. _If you ever get stuck and can't figure out what to next, use your awareness. Let your senses flow out into the world around you, and use every one of them. Look all around you- walls, floor, ceiling, tree, rock, river and sky. Leave no stone unturned. Use everything you can to your advantage. Never leave something essential overlooked._

Something essential… something like J'shana's diary.

In a trice she had whipped it from her sort of instinct led her to the same paragraph as before.

_After all, you'll need to pay with your blood to get through, and only the right path will lead you to my resting place, and the Shout._

Somehow it held the answer… and then suddenly A'jira knew where, and how.

She followed Faenlor's advice. She looked all around her. The walls. No. The ceiling. No. The floor. Yes.

There, beneath her feet. She moved backwards in order to see it better. A sort of seal, shaped like a flying dragon.

_You'll need to pay with your blood to get through…_

Her fur flattened ever so slightly, but she shook off her fear and replaced the diary. Then she pulled her dagger from her belt and went down on one knee.

'A'jira? What are you doing?'

'Don't worry. I've got it sorted,' she replied reassuringly, hoping that she had.

She pressed the blade of the knife against her hand and used it to part her thick grey fur, leaving a clear path to the pale, vulnerable skin underneath. With a sharp intake of breath, she pressed the dagger downwards and pulled it a little way along. A small cut opened on her hand. She winced and supressed a gasp of pain, but it would heal quickly, and it had to be done. She turned her hand so that her palm was directly above the seal, and gently squeezed the wound. A single drop of blood, red as the eyes of Alduin, fell from her hand and splashed onto the seal.

There was a grinding noise. The huge boulder shook slightly. Then, as if someone invisible was pulling a rope attached to it, it juddered backwards and slid to one side.

Instantly light filled their vision and both Argonian and Khajiit shrank back, unaware of how accustomed to the gloom and darkness their eyes had become. It wasn't the light from a spell, or the reddish glow of a fire. It was daylight, real daylight, the rays of the sun somehow seeping underground.

Blinking, A'jira took a step forward and entered the heart of Dragonborn Barrow.

High, high above, almost too high for her to see, was the surface. The enormous cavern was shaped like a dome, with a long, thin, tunnel at the top leading straight up to the world above. A single beam of light shone through the tunnel and onto the very centre of the cave. Around the walls stretched a waist-height sort of trough, filled with wood soaked in oil. Zaran stepped up to it and ignited the wood with a flame from his hands. The flame caught, kindled the next piece of wood, and spread around the cavern, lighting up every inch with a warm fire-glow. It would have been too hot to cope with, had the cave not been so far underground that it was as cold as an Evening Star morning in Winterhold. The fire warmed it to the heat of a summer's day.

And as the flames lit up the last corner of the cavern, they could see for the first time how amazing it really was.

The shaft of sunlight streaming in from the surface fell upon a pair of statues. One was a female Khajiit, bow drawn back and ready to fire, her expression kind and fierce and noble and full of laughter at the same time. Beside her stood a male Argonian with small, goat-like horns. In one hand he held a sleek and beautiful sword, and in the other a curved bow. Both statues had clearly been made with skill and love. A'jira didn't want to think about how long they must have taken. Just like the carvings on the temple outside, every detail was complete. Every hair on the Khajiit's pelt, every scale on the Argonian, every arrow in their quivers- it was all perfectly made. The Khajiit's fur had even been carved in such a way that some parts appeared darker than others, creating a pattern of striking tabby stripes. Some pieces, like the bowstrings, were so thin that A'jira was sure that the lightest touch would shatter them into a thousand pieces. Even their weapons looked deadly. She recognised those in the hands of the Argonian as a glass bow and an ebony sword, but she'd never seen a bow quite like the one held by the Khajiit.

The pair of them stood on a large square of white stone. Stepping over to it, A'jira read the words carved there.

_Laid to rest in this place, deep in the heart of the land they loved_

_Lies a pair of true warriors._

_J'shana Tygra_

_The Dragonborn, and saviour of all Tamriel_

_And her husband_

_Derkeethus_

_Without whom she would never have succeeded in her quest._

_They lived as warriors_

_They died as heroes_

_And will never be forgotten_

_Until this world has ended_

_And the stars fall from the sky._

A'jira found herself consumed by a wave of sadness so strong it threatened to knock her off her feet. How could this have happened? How could the same people who wrote such things have forgotten so completely about the people they had once loved and honoured five hundred years before? A'jira felt her heart break. A single tear welled up in the corner of her eye and trickled down her whiskers, dropping onto the white stone in the same way that her blood had fallen onto the seal.

Zaran came over to her. Seeing her sorrow, he gently placed his arm around her shoulders. '_We_ remember them,' he murmured. 'And one day, so will all of Skyrim. Maybe even all of Tamriel.'

A'jira swallowed and nodded.

'Come.' Zaran gestured to the far wall of the cavern. 'It is time for you to do what we came here for.'

A'jira looked up. A little way in front of the channel of fire was their goal. The word wall.

Now that she was focused on it again, the chanting registered in her ears again. She angled them towards the sound, letting it fill her entire body. The words pounded in her mind, demanding to be let into her soul. Warily, she made her way around the statue of her ancestors, who watched her with unblinking eyes, and stepped up to the wall, her footsteps echoing as loudly as the roar of a dragon in the otherwise silent chamber. Silent apart from three words that entered her mind and flooded through every inch of her.

_Wahl._

_Zu._

_Dovah._

She recognised _dovah, _but the other words meant nothing to her. Still, she felt their power as it surged through her, unstoppable and strong. Suddenly she was afraid- afraid of the raw power of this Shout. She had no idea what it did, or how it worked- but it was dangerous, and powerful, and it frightened her.

She stood there for a moment, letting the words sound in her head and fade. Then Zaran's shout broke in on her thoughts.

'A'jira! Come and see!'

Turning, she saw Zaran kneeling beside a large chest. There were several around the walls. The Argonian had prised open the lid of one and was holding up what he had found inside with undisguised awe.

'What have you got there?'

Eye wide with delight, Zaran held out a set of blue and white robes. 'These are expert robes of destruction. They let their wearer cast destruction spells using less Magicka than usual, and allow their Magicka to regenerate more than twice as fast.' He pulled out something else. 'And an adept hood, too… I can hardly believe it!'

'I guess J'shana left them here for us,' A'jira said, walking over to join him. 'She studied at the College of Winterhold for a while.'

'Well, thank you, J'shana… this is amazing! And look!' Zaran sounded like a small boy who had just discovered that his birthday had come early. 'Look at all these spell tomes!' He wrenched a handful from the inside of the chest and sat down among them, riffling through a purple one with a strange symbol on the cover. 'Conjure Flame Atronach… I've been looking for this spell ever since I decided to become a mage.' He flicked to the last page and the book burst into flames.

'Um… is that supposed to happen?' A'jira looked on worriedly as Zaran dusted the ashes from his hands and picked up a red one with three circles on the cover.

'Oh, yes, it's quite ordinary… now what's this one? Clairvoyance…'

A'jira decided to leave him to it and examined another chest. It wasn't locked and creaked open easily. She peered inside and her mouth dropped open.

With shaking hands, she brought out the set of armour inside the chest. It was surprisingly light, yet somehow she knew that it would turn almost any blade. She ran a hand over it, feeling its jagged surface, and five centuries' worth of dust floated into the air, revealing a grey-green surface that felt tough as rock.

A'jira became aware of Zaran watching her. 'Is that armour made of what I think it is?'

A'jira nodded. There was no doubt. It was made from dragon scales.

'J'shana must have made this herself.' A'jira pulled out one of the gauntlets and slid it onto her hand. It was a near perfect fit.

'It's… amazing.' Zaran was at a loss for words, and A'jira had to agree.

She pulled out the rest of the armour set and sat in front of it, staring. Everything was lovingly made and a thousand times stronger than iron, from the horned helmet to the armoured boots. It even had two small holes for her ears, and another in the back for her tail.

And that wasn't all. At the bottom of the chest, next to a quiver of arrows that A'jira was pretty certain were ebony, lay a stunning silver and black bow. Like the dragonscale armour, it was the real version of the stone one carved onto the statue of J'shana. She picked it up and ran her hands along its curved edge. Then she gave the bowstring a small pluck. It gave a _twang_, vibrating in her hands like a bird trying to take flight. She pulled the elven bow she had been given by Faenlor from its holder and weighed it against the black one. The weapon that had seen her through so much suddenly felt small and puny compared the amazing piece of craftsmanship that was the black bow.

She took one of the ebony arrows and notched it to the bow. The string slid back easily. She walked over to the foot of J'shana's statue and aimed up into the finger of light. She narrowed her eyes, aiming for the speck of light that was the surface, high, high above.

She fired.

The arrow shot upwards, fast and stronger than any arrow she'd ever fired before. Soon it was nothing but a black speck. And then she couldn't see it any more. She stepped away from the statues, waiting for it to fall back down. It didn't.

'By the Hist,' Zaran said admiringly. 'That is… a good bow.'

'You can say that again.' A'jira's smile was too big for her face.

She went back to the chest and looked inside. It was empty apart from an ebony dagger- A'jira took it and tucked it into her belt- and a scroll of parchment.

She knew who would be the writer before she even looked at it.

_To you, my heir, I leave these gifts._

_First, the Shout. I will not tell you what it does. That is for you to discover. Do not use it until you face Alduin. You will need it then and only then- not after, not before._

_I made this armour myself. Do not let its lightness fool you. It will stand against any weapon. _

_The dagger and arrows I found in the Dwemer city of Blackreach, while searching for the elder scroll. I have no use for them any longer- they are yours._

_And finally, I give you my bow. It is a Nightingale Bow, and there is no other like it. It was given to me by Karliah, one of my greatest friends. It never let her down, and it never let me down. I hope that it will serve you as well and as faithfully._

_J'shana_

'I'm sure it will,' A'jira murmured. She took off her own quiver and placed it in the chest, along with her old bow and dagger. She wouldn't be needing them anymore.

She went over to another chest. It was full of strange sets of armour she had no name for. The next was full of potions, with their uses written onto their labels in faded ink. A'jira was just able to make out J'shana's loopy, scruffy handwriting.

The next was full of various different amulets, necklaces and pieces of jewellery. A'jira would have taken some, but she was worried about running out of room in her bag, so she closed the lid and turned her attention to the next chest and pulled up its lid.

Her mouth opened along with the chest.

It was filled to the brim with gold coins. There wasn't an ounce of room for any more. There were so many that just opening the chest made several of them roll out. They glinted and shimmered in the light from the fire- a glistening sea of gold.

As she stared, she realised that there were words carved into the top of the chest.

_What are you so surprised about? It's no use to me, is it? After all, wealth is no promise of happiness, and I'm happy as I am. Derkeethus and my children are the only treasures I need._ _Oh, stop staring like that and shut your mouth. You look like a fish._

A'jira burst out laughing and closed her mouth, along with the chest.

'Aren't you taking any?' Zaran looked at her with surprise.

'Why would I need it? There's too much of it for my liking.'

Zaran gave her a look that was a mixture of admiration and disbelief.

'What? Why are you looking at me like that?'

Zaran looked hesitant. 'You are a most remarkable Khajiit, A'jira. Most people, when they found this place, would take as much of the riches as they could fit in their bags and pockets. But you take only what you need, not what you want. Never before have I met one like you.'

A'jira blushed furiously. 'I think that a few days ago, I would have grabbed the gold and ran. But…'

Zaran nodded in understanding. 'You have changed, yes?'

'Yes. I mean, my life used to be completely about surviving until the end of the next day. Now… I've got a purpose. Something to live for. I'm trying to save the world. And this…' She waved her hand at the chest of gold. 'I don't need it. I don't even want it. It's no use to me.'

Zaran smiled. 'I am a lucky Argonian. All the people in Skyrim who could have rescued me from that cage, and I had the good fortune to be found by you.'

Her blush deepened as she searched for an answer to this. She couldn't find one. It was like trying to shoot an elk blindfold.

'Come.' Zaran picked up the robes he had found. 'I am going to go into the other chamber and put these on.' He smiled. 'Give you some privacy to try your new armour.'

A'jira felt an uneasiness run through her as she looked at it. 'I'm… I'm not sure I should wear it.'

Her friend paused, confused. 'Why on Nirn not?'

'Because…' A'jira tried to find what was bothering her. 'Only a few days ago I was nobody, Zaran. If I sold everything I owned it would hardly be enough to buy a square meal. And suddenly, to be wearing this…' She shook her head. 'It feels wrong. I mean, how much must this stuff be worth? I'll be carrying a small fortune around with me and I'm not sure I can do it. It just feels too different. Too… too not like me.'

Zaran came over to her and placed his arm around her shoulders. His eyes glowed with sympathy and understanding. 'I know it must seem strange. But it has to be. Think about it, A'jira. You are Dragonborn, the one who will lead us out of this dark time and into a bright new future,' he murmured softly. 'Think of the people of Skyrim. It may well be that they will have to go into battle behind you. And who do you think they would rather follow? A child in plain armour she borrowed from the Jarl of Whiterun, or one who looks the very image of what a Dragonborn is supposed to be?'

His words hit home with A'jira. Of course, he was right. Again. She smiled and nodded. 'Yeah. I guess you're right. I'll just have to get used to it.'

He shrugged. 'Who knows? Maybe once you wear it you will not have to get used to it at all. Maybe it will help you to feel more like the person you have to become.'

A'jira nodded again, knowing that once more he spoke the truth. 'I hope so.'

He smiled. 'I know so. Skyrim needs someone to lead them, to fight for them. You will be that leader, A'jira. I know you will be. You know why?'

A'jira shook her head.

'Because you are that leader already.'

Amber met green for a long, long moment.

* * *

It was time to go.

Zaran had been right about the armour. Wearing it, A'jira didn't just feel like a Dragonborn, but like a dragon. It was such a perfect fit that she almost felt that the scales on the chestplate and arms and the horns on the helmet were her own. She felt as if she could face anything- wolves, bandits, dragons- and beat them without a single scratch. _Who battles the dragon and comes away clean? _she thought with satisfaction, remembering her poem.

They had found the way out- a hidden door behind the word wall. They had extinguished the fire and replaced anything they didn't need in the chests, for some other Dragonborn to find, maybe, in hundreds of years' time. Zaran had gone through every spell book in the place, and was wearing his new robes. A'jira had left behind her old bow, quiver and armour, and stocked up on potions, knowing they were going to need them.

Zaran lit a Candlelight spell in one hand, and with the other cast a new spell he had learned, Clairvoyance, which would always lead the way for them, no matter where it was that they were trying to go. As he cast it, a blue trail curved around their feet and into the door in front of them.

Their way was clear. They were ready. They knew what they had to do.

A'jira looked at Zaran. He nodded.

'Let's go.'

They took their first few steps into the tunnel that led to the outside world.

Without sound or movement, a pair of stone statues watched them go. As the light from the retreating Candlelight spell hovering over Zaran's head flickered over their faces, the shadows danced over their mouths, and they almost seemed to smile.

A'jira turned and pulled the tunnel door shut.

And as that door shut on the past, it opened the way to the future.

They had the Shout to defeat Alduin.

The quest to save Skyrim had truly begun.

* * *

**I****n case anyone's wondering, the blood seal was like the one at Sky Haven- activated only by the blood of a Dragonborn.**

**I know J'shana's diary said she wasn't intending to join the Thieves Guild, and without joining them she couldn't have got the Nightingale bow. Don't worry about it. She changed her mind.**

**I know you're all dying to know what the Shout does… Sorry, no answers until the final battle with Alduin!**

**Dragon battle next chapter! And also maybe a bit of romance :-D **

**Please review!**


	13. The Dragonborn Comes

Chapter Thirteen- The Dragonborn Comes

Location: About an hour's journey west of Solitude

Date: 11th of Sun's Height

A'jira had never before appreciated just how beautiful the sun was. After so long down in the darkness, it warmed her heart as well as her body to look upon it. The sky was blue and cloudless, except for a few wisps that looked like the petals of a few tiny white flowers scattered across the sky. The wind was running through the needles of the pine trees that surrounded them, making the whole wood come alive with a rustling sound that sounded as if the trees themselves were whispering to each other. Nearby, a small stream trickled over some stones and fell with a leap and a splash into a crystal clear pond.

Zaran emerged from the tunnel exit behind her. He gave a long sigh as he realised that their long journey through the darkness was over. 'Oh, thank the Hist,' he murmured, his green eyes shining with relief. 'I was beginning to think that it would never be over.'

'Everything has to end eventually,' A'jira said with a shrug.

Zaran chuckled. 'It seems strange to be out here now in the warmth and light after so long in the cold and dark.'

A'jira nodded in agreement. 'Definitely.' She looked around at the trees and ferns that surrounded them. 'Where do you think we are?'

'I could not tell you. I have only known Skyrim for a few weeks, remember.'

A'jira frowned and studied the landscape. 'I think we're in the woods near Solitude,' she said finally. 'If we went east for about an hour, we'd probably come to the city, or at least the road leading to it.'

Zaran instantly looked more cheerful. 'Solitude? That sounds like a good way to go. I would do a lot for a good meal and a warm bed in an inn.'

'Me too, but Khajiit aren't allowed into cities, remember?'

Zaran shrugged. 'Just tell them you are Dragonborn.'

'They won't believe me.'

'Who knows? Maybe the Jarl of Whiterun has sent word to them. In any case, we cannot be certain until we try.'

A'jira was starting to love Zaran's sense and firm logic, despite his insistence that she was the smart one. She was truly glad that he was with her now. He was clever, he was loyal and dependable, he never ran from battle or shied away from danger. And best of all, he didn't judge. He believed in her, he encouraged her, he fought alongside her. But he didn't expect anything of her, not like the guards of Whiterun who had instantly turned her into their hero, not like Paarthurnax and Odahviing who were relying on her to save Nirn, not like the hundreds of thousands of people who looked at her and saw nothing but a filthy, untrustworthy cat that somehow gained the ability to talk and think. To him, she knew, she was not a murdering, stealing Khajiit, nor the saviour of Skyrim. To him, she was just A'jira, just an ordinary Khajiit girl no different to anyone else- and she loved him for it. Never in her life had she had a greater friend.

'I vote we rest for a while and then make our way to Solitude,' A'jira decided. 'If nothing else, we can warn the people that the dragons are coming back.'

'They may already know,' Zaran pointed out. 'We've no idea what might have happened while we were underground. The dragons might have been lying low, or they could have launched a full-scale attack.'

'True, but we won't know until we get there. I think we should go to Solitude. That's probably the nearest settlement. If they let us in, we'll find an inn or a tavern and stay there for the night and make a plan. We've got the Shout now; we just need to find Alduin so that I can use it. If they won't allow us inside, we'll head south-west. There's a town there that I visited once. Dragon Bridge. There's a tavern there, and I know they'll let us stay. I've lodged with them before.'

'That sounds like a plan.' Zaran laid down his pack and took a seat on a rock. 'But first, let us eat.'

A'jira nodded. 'That stream looks like a good place for fish. I'll see if I can catch one.'

As she knelt down beside the crystalline water, she glanced around at the woodlands. They were bright and beautiful and full of life. All of Skyrim was beautiful, she realised- from the harsh mountains of the Pale to the plains of Whiterun, to the golden woods of the Rift to the canyons of the Reach. How could somewhere so peaceful and beautiful be under so much threat?

* * *

The last remains of the clouds had vanished from the sky, and the sound of birdsong was ringing in A'jira's ears as she made her way towards Solitude. It was a warm day, and both she and Zaran had removed their headgear. Even without her helmet, though, A'jira was still too hot. It was one of the downsides of having fur.

The path they were following was long and tiring, but A'jira was glad of it. She much preferred to be on a road and know where she was going to blundering blindly through the woodlands. After about an hour's tramping through the forest, they had stumbled upon the path that led to Solitude. It had been more through luck than through judgement, but A'jira knew the road fairly well and they could at least be certain now that they were going the right way.

They hadn't met many people so far. There had been a travelling merchant who'd tried to sell them a whole load of rubbish, a pair of hunters and their dogs on the trail of an elk, a farmer taking a cow as a an offering to a giant camp in an attempt to stop the giants from attacking his livestock.

'He's going to get sent into orbit,' A'jira commented, shaking her head as the farmer and his cow disappeared down the road.

'Sent into orbit?' Zaran asked. 'What do you mean?'

'Haven't you seen what happens if someone gets too close to a giant?'

'No.'

'If we wait for about five minutes, you'll soon find out.'

A'jira's prediction proved correct. After precisely four minutes and twenty seven seconds, (Zaran counted) a cry went up from the woods nearby and the farmer appeared several metres above the trees, limp as a ragdoll and clearly dead.

'What an idiot,' A'jira said flatly, shaking her head sadly.

'Do you think we should have warned him?' Zaran looked at her worriedly.

'Anyone stupid enough to walk into a giant camp should know what to expect.'

And so on they went.

It wasn't long before they saw the city silhouetted against the bright azure sky. A'jira knew that more likely than not she would be turned out, but she still held onto the shallow hope that the guards would allow her in. The thought of sleeping in a bed and eating a real, proper meal was so enticing she started walking faster. She thought of sitting back with a warm drink and listening to a bard play. They had enough money for rooms for both of them, and food. And nobody said they had to leave right away. Maybe they should stay for a while and enjoy the city... she'd never been inside, but everyone she'd talked to said it was a beautiful place. Maybe they could find a shop and sell some of the things they didn't need. Or buy some things. But she certainly wasn't going to miss out on a chance for them to relax for a little while before they continued their quest…

'Turn back, sister, turn back!'

With a startled hiss, A'jira looked up. A trio of Khajiit was racing towards them, their fur fluffed up with fear and their ears flat against their heads. She guessed they were one of the roving caravans- but why did they seem so afraid? And where were the carts and wagons that usually accompanied travelling traders?

'What's happening? What are you running from?' A'jira demanded, as they ran past.

The leader skidded to a halt and pointed towards the city. 'You must not go to Solitude! It is under attack!'

'Under attack? What from?' Zaran instantly prepared his spells, crouching down a little as if ready to fight at a moment's notice.

A second Khajiit- the caravan guard, judging by her steel armour- replied in a voice shrill with terror. 'I would not believe it had I not seen it! They were meant to be dead- long dead!'

A'jira's fur began to prickle.

The third caravan member nodded. 'I thought it would kill us all. We barely escaped with our lives!'

A'jira pulled out her bow. 'It's a dragon, isn't it?'

They all nodded, clearly too terrified to ask her how she knew.

Zaran glanced at A'jira. She had been holding her helmet under her arm, and now she reached up and pulled it onto her head. That was her answer.

Zaran nodded. 'Then it shall die this day.'

'Let's go,' A'jira hissed.

Without any further words, they ran. Nothing more needed to be said. The light of battle was already beginning to glint in A'jira's eyes, and her warrior blood rose up within her. The rage of the soul of the dead dragon burned inside her, and she welcomed it. She needed its fearlessness and boundless power now.

'Sister! Come back! What are you doing?' The caravan leader's voice called after them, full of horror and fright. 'You're running the wrong way!'

_We're not, _A'jira thought, her feet pounding on the stones of the path. She felt her tail start to lash and her hackles rise. She felt her ears flatten and a smile spread over her face. This was the time; the time to prove herself to everyone. This was the time to show them who she was. A'jira Tygra. J'shana Tygra's descendant. The Dragonborn. They had been unable to accept before that their saviour could be a Khajiit- well, let them deny it now, as she killed this dragon and took its soul!

As they neared the city gates, the sounds began. Layer by layer, A'jira drank them in. The screams were the worst. The screams of those not quick enough or not strong enough to save themselves. Then there were the shouts of the guards. Her sharp ears could just make out the words. 'We are routed! Fall back!' roared one, and 'Get the townspeople to safety!' bellowed another. Louder than both were the petrified whinnies of the horses in the nearby stable. For the rest of her life after she heard that sound, A'jira never let anyone say that animals cannot scream. There was so much pure, undisguised terror in the sound that she turned towards it to see what could possibly have drawn such a noise from the peaceful creatures. What she saw made her heart clench. The stable was on fire! Without hesitation, she ran over to it and wrenched the doors of the horses' stalls open. A pair of palomino stallions pushed past her and galloped away into the wilderness, their eyes rolling in terror.

When the sound of their screams and hoofbeats had faded, one noise rose louder than anything else over all the rest.

'_YOL TOOR SHUL!'_

High above, its wings spread against the sky like a giant green bat, the dragon hovered above the fleeing townspeople, eyes gleaming with cruel delight as it selected its prey. Arching its neck, it sent a jet of flame lancing towards the ground. It narrowly missed a small boy, who cried out in terror and ran for his life, screaming for his mother and father. Hissing almost as if it was angry at itself for missing, the dragon turned and took aim again.

Summoning up all the dragon language she'd learned from listening to Odahviing and Paarthurnax, A'jira drew herself up to her full height and loaded her bow. '_Dovah! Zu'u Dovahkiin! _Come and _krif _a _kaaz, _if you dare!'

Was that right? 'Dragon! I am Dragonborn! Come and fight a Khajiit, if you dare!' She hoped so.

With a startled growl, the dragon's head snapped around. Its eyes locked with hers. It was pale green in colour, with a large, spade-shaped tail. It bared its teeth and snarled in a voice laden with contempt and hatred.

'_Dovahkiin? Aan kaaz?'_

'Come and face me, you coward! You're brave enough trying to kill children- let's see you fight a Dragonborn!'

The dragon roared._ 'Aav fron ko dinok, mey!'_

Without warning, it dived. A'jira rolled away before it landed right on top of her. It shook the earth as it landed, knocking A'jira to the ground. Her bow flew from her hand and she reached out for it, scrabbling in the dirt to grab hold of her weapon before it was too late. The tips of her fingers brushed it and she yanked it towards her. She leaped to her feet and turned in a fluid movement, reloading her bow. But too late. The dragon was already lunging forwards for the killing blow.

'_Dir, sunvaar!' _

What happened next happened so fast that A'jira could not make sense of it at first. She heard someone scream her name, and then something heavy fell on top of her, crushing her into the ground. The dragon's jaws snapped shut on empty air. Then the weight was off her back and Zaran was standing in front of the dragon, sending spears of ice into its flesh. 'If you dare touch her, I will kill you!' he screamed, so ferociously that A'jira could hardly believe this was the same peaceful creature that had become her friend.

The dragon drew back with a howl, surprised by the ferocity of Zaran's attack, and A'jira scrambled to her feet, snatching up the arrow that had fallen from her bow and replacing it on the bowstring. She took careful aim and fired. With a hiss and a _thunk_, the arrow struck the beast in its small, round yellow eye.

With a screech of pain the creature took to the air, blood pouring from the wound. It turned its head, desperately trying to find the infuriating little creature that had blinded it in one eye and insulted it and challenged it. A well-aimed lightning bolt struck its tail, followed by three arrows- one hitting its chest, one its wing, one its long neck. It swerved away, landing on the city walls, sheltering behind the high tower. A'jira heard a shriek of fear from inside it, followed by a scream as a Solitude guard was flung from the tower, his red sash painted with the darker red of his own blood, falling to the ground and smashing into the earth below. Several more guards were positioned around the walls, but to A'jira's amazement and fury they weren't even trying to fight. Instead, they were cowering behind any cover they could find, hoping not to be noticed.

'Cowards!' A'jira yelled at them. 'Fight, you fools! Can't you see we have a better chance if we face it together?'

Not a guard moved, apart from glancing at her with expressions that said clearly, 'Who is this idiot who thinks she can fight this thing?'

Anger pounding through her veins, A'jira shouted at the top of her voice. 'Are you going to hide forever, dragon? Come out and face us! We haven't got all day!'

'Face your death, beast!' Zaran added, coming forwards to stand beside her. He looked at A'jira and the meaning in his emerald eyes was clear. They fought as one.

With a bellow, the dragon burst out from behind the tower and dived towards them. A'jira stood rooted to the spot, rage conflicting with confident calm within her. As the dragon neared, she took a deep breath and Shouted at the top of her voice.

'_Yol TOOR SHUL!'_

Instantly fire blazed through the air, setting the dragon's scales alight. It roared and, falling to the ground, tried to beat out the flames with its wings. When that failed, it rolled over on the earth, extinguishing the fire but exposing itself to a volley of arrows and spells from Zaran and A'jira. It beat its enormous wings, trying with all its strength to take to the air again, but half of one wing had been burnt to cinders. It stopped struggling. It knew that the fight was over.

'So it is true,' it growled. 'You are indeed _Dovahkiin.'_

'Yes. She is.' Zaran prepared to hurl another ice spike.

'Then it was an honour to fight you, _kaaz, _and to meet my _dinok _at your hand.'

A'jira nodded, uncertain of what to say.

'Come! Finish it!' The dragon held up its head, exposing its throat. A'jira notched another arrow to her bow, pulled back the string, took aim, and fired.

The arrow buried itself up to the feathered fletching in the dragon's throat. It gave a final roar, then slumped to the ground. Its tail writhed and lashed for a few seconds, then the light died from its eyes and the beast fell still.

Quietly, warily, as if hardly daring to believe it was true, people started to emerge from the bushes and approach the dead dragon. 'So… it's really dead?' asked one guard, poking it with his sword.

'By the Gods… I don't know what to say,' another whispered, staring at A'jira.

Zaran laughed as he extinguished his spells. 'You haven't seen anything yet, friend.'

A'jira took a few paces towards the dead body. She realised that there was no backing out now. This was the moment that everything came out into the open. No turning back. This was the moment that the world realised she was Dragonborn.

She waited.

The dragon's soul didn't keep her waiting long.

As the flames started to consume its body, the light rose from the bare bones, as it had done before. A'jira heard gasps from the onlookers, but didn't turn her head. The river of light spiralled upwards into the air, turned like the head of a snake trying to find where to strike, then shot forwards. A'jira opened her mind and drank it in, her spirit battling with the pure fury that came with the vicious soul. But this time at least she knew what to expect, and it was far easier than it had been the first time. In fact, this time, it filled her with a wonderful warm feeling, as if a fire was burning inside her soul.

Then it faded, and she stood in front of the bare skeleton of the slain dragon, bow in hand.

There was silence for a moment, then the whispering began.

'What just happened?'

'What was all that light?

'How on earth did she _do _that?'

'She breathed fire! Just like a dragon!'

'Is she… _dragonborn?'_

'Don't be ridiculous? Why would a cat be dragonborn?'

'Silence!' Zaran's voice, clear, proud and strong, rang out through the air, hushing the muttering citizens and guards. 'Let A'jira speak.'

Sending him a grateful look, A'jira turned around to face the residents of Solitude that were crowding around her.

'You have no reason to believe me or to disbelieve me,' she called out, surprised at how calm her voice sounded. 'You have seen the proof with your own eyes.'

The watchers had fallen silent. Every eye was fixed on her.

'A new era is coming!' A'jira's voice carried through the air, and it seemed that even the birds had stopped singing in order to listen. 'A time for dragons to rise again!'

Nobody moved. Nobody blinked. It almost seemed that nobody breathed.

'Alduin was not destroyed all those years ago. He was merely defeated. My ancestor's name was erased from history- dishonoured and forgotten! And through the ignorance of Skyrim's people, the dragons have taken their chance to return. They seek to destroy us all- to kill every mortal soul, to burn our land, to claim this world for their own. They have no mercy and no morals. They seek only to kill.'

Gasps ran through the crowd.

'But there's one they fear!' A'jira raised her head high and held her bow above her head. 'In their tongue, I am _Dovahkiin. _Dragonborn!'

She sucked in air and Shouted.

'FUS RO DAH!'

* * *

'Here, Dragonborn. A bottle of our finest Argonian ale for you and your friend. I hope you enjoyed your meals.'

'Thank you very much.' A'jira took the bottle and two tankards from the tray held by the Breton woman in charge of the Winking Skeever inn. It was a very old inn, dating back more than five hundred years. A'jira wondered if J'shana had ever been there. 'The food was wonderful, thank you.'

'Is the room to your satisfaction?'

'Of course.'

'Is there anything else I can do for you?'

'No, that's all, thanks.'

The woman nodded and departed, shutting the door behind her. A'jira poured a tankard of ale for herself and Zaran, and raised hers a little way into the air.

'To J'shana and Derkeethus,' she said. 'To all the help they gave us.'

Zaran, seated at the other side of the small table, nodded and raised his own mug. 'To them, and to us,' he agreed, touching his tankard with hers.

A'jira drained her cup and set it back on the table, her mind whirling as she tried to make sense of the events of the day. After her announcement, they'd been taken before Thonrir, Jarl of Solitude. He'd been reluctant to believe that A'jira was Dragonborn, but after at least twenty eyewitnesses confirmed her story he'd been forced to accept it. Word had been sent to the Jarls of the other holds about the return of both the dragons and their legendary slayer. 'I didn't believe Jarl Brandor when he sent me some cock-and-bull story about a dragon attack and a new dragonborn, especially when he said it was a Khajiit,' he told her. 'I thought he'd had too much mead. But I guess I have to believe him now.'

'Yes,' A'jira told him bluntly, 'You do.'

Until it was decided what would be done, A'jira and Zaran were staying in the Winking Skeever. They'd been allowed a room there for free, as the boy they had saved was the son of the innkeepers. It was one of the best rooms, too- larger than the others, with a table, chairs, a fireplace and two beds. They didn't know how long they'd have to stay for- until the Jarls decided what to do, she supposed. But what was to decide? All that needed to happen was for everyone in every hold to be on their guard and informed that the dragons were back- and also that A'jira was Dragonborn.

But before she dealt with that… A'jira glanced up at Zaran, who was sipping his ale. She wanted to ask him something. She just wasn't sure whether she should. It wasn't that it was an unreasonable question- at least, she didn't think it was. She just wasn't sure what the answer was going to be.

'Zaran,' she said slowly. 'You know when we were fighting that dragon…'

'Mmm hmm.' Zaran finished his tankard and replaced it on the table. 'Why?'

A'jira shuffled uncertainly in her chair. 'The dragon was about to kill me. You threw yourself on top of me. So it didn't get me.'

'Of course. What else could I have done? I know that you would have done the same for me.' His emerald eyes locked onto hers, and she found she could not look away.

'It's just…' A'jira let out a shaky breath. 'If you'd mistimed it, it would have bitten you in half.'

Her friend gave a small, quiet chuckle. 'Yes, but it didn't.'

'Zaran.' A'jira looked deep, deep into his eyes, trying to find the answers he was keeping from her hidden inside them. 'You knew that, didn't you? Before you did it, you knew that you might be killed.'

Zaran blinked and looked down at the table. 'I- I suppose.'

A'jira looked at him, and he raised his head. Their eyes met again.

'You would have died to save me,' A'jira whispered. 'You would have given your life to save mine.'

'You are Dragonborn,' Zaran said simply. 'Skyrim needs you. I could not have let you die.'

'No. There's something else, isn't there?' The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them from coming. _Oh, Talos, _she thought. _Why do I never think before I open my big mouth?_

Alarm in his eyes, Zaran hesitated a little before speaking. 'No, it's just-'

He gave a long sigh looked at the floor. 'A'jira… I do not believe that we met by chance. Neither do you. It was Odahviing who led you to me, but it was fate itself that decided that we should meet.' He spoke softly and slowly, as if he was thinking through every word before he said it.

'But I also know that you had a choice when you found me in that cage. I was no business of yours. You had enough to handle without looking after a half-dead Argonian. Most people would have just continued on their way. But not you. You stayed. You helped. You saved my life.'

A'jira realised that there was a strange feeling inside her, one she hadn't felt before. She searched for a name for it, and realised she couldn't find one. But it felt good. It felt warm and bright and wonderful.

'And then you stayed with me. You didn't have to let me go with you. But you did. You trusted me like no one has ever trusted me before, not even my own family. You even made me trust myself. And most of all-' He broke off. A'jira wasn't sure where he was going with this, but she said nothing, and let him carry on.

'Those things in the barrow. They were meant for you. These robes, those spell books… I had no right to them, yet you let me take them all the same. That chest of gold- you didn't take a single Septim. You are the most selfless person I have ever met. You fight to save the people of Skyrim even though they are the same people who have ridiculed you and insulted you and despised you all your life. It takes no courage to fight for your friends. But to fight for your enemies- that is the sign of a true warrior.'

The feeling was growing stronger. It was stronger than a word of power, stronger than a dragon soul, stronger than anything she had ever experienced before in her life.

'When we were fighting that dragon, when I saw it draw back to strike… I don't really know what happened. I just know I would rather die myself than see you come to harm. I'm… I'm not sure if you understand me. I don't really understand myself. I know this seems crazy. We have only known each other a few days. But I can't change how I feel.'

A'jira said nothing. Zaran looked up from the floor, and their eyes locked together once more.

'Look… I think what I'm trying to say is… I think…'

Zaran took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

'A'jira… I love you.'

* * *

**And there we are! I promised romance, and there you have it!**

**To any cynics who are just dying to bombard me with complaints about how this is so unrealistic because they've only known each other a few days, PLEASE wait until next chapter. I will be explaining everything- yes, everything- in more detail then. For now, I'll just say that not only is Zaran affectionate, emotional and a deep thinker, he is extremely honest and isn't the sort to keep his feelings secret. You'll have to wait till the next chapter to get a complete answer.**

**The dragon language spoken in this chapter means (in order):**

'**Dragonborn? A Khajiit?' (I intended this dragon to be one of the ones that survived J'shana, and has been living in the wild up until now. Therefore, as he never encountered J'shana, it makes sense for him to be surprised that the legendary enemy of his species is a Khajiit)**

'**Join (your) kin in death, fool!' (Couldn't find the dragon for 'your,' but dragons often miss out small words when talking so it doesn't really matter)**

'**Die, beast!'**

**Now, unfortunately, for the bad news. I'm going away for about a week starting from next Saturday, so I won't be able to update. But I give you my solemn promise that I'll continue writing as soon as I get back! I'm an anxious to know what A'jira's reaction will be as you are!**


	14. Heart to Heart

Chapter Fourteen- Heart to Heart

Location: The Winking Skeever, Solitude

Date: 11th of Sun's Height

Zaran found himself unable to meet A'jira's piercing amber gaze. Swallowing hard, he looked down at the table. Why had he said that? Why? What if A'jira didn't understand? No, there was no 'if' about it. A'jira wouldn't understand. He knew she wouldn't, because he didn't either.

It had all begun the moment he opened his eyes and saw A'jira kneeling over him, concern and worry all over her beautiful face. He hadn't understood at first. What had happened? Who was she? Why did he feel so wretched and exhausted? But then he'd seen the open door to the cage, the lockpick lying on the ground, and put them together with A'jira's kindness to work out what had happened. She had saved him. And through no reason other than her own benevolence.

As he'd realised what she'd done, he'd felt pure shock run through him. He'd experienced nothing but hatred and mistrust since his arrival in Skyrim. The glares, the angry expressions, the mutterings as she passed. 'What do you want, lizard?' 'What's your business here, beast?' 'Your kind has no place in Skyrim!' And for him to be rescued by someone who had nothing whatsoever to gain from rescuing him… it staggered belief. But it was true, for matter which way he looked at it, Zaran could see no way that A'jira had benefitted from helping him. Her only intention had been that he might live.

As soon as he'd realised that, he found he could not look at her in the same way, nor think about her in the same way. His parents had always told him not to trust the Khajiit. But Zaran found he could not help but trust A'jira. She had saved him. She was his friend. And she had trusted him with her own secrets- the secrets of her harsh past and her uncertain future. She'd even told him about how she thought that fate had bound them together. She'd told him about how she thought she might be Dragonborn. And then she'd let him go with her.

He hadn't quite known what he was thinking when he'd asked to accompany her. He had just suddenly felt that he wanted to go with her. He hadn't wanted her to face danger alone. He'd said it was because he owed her for saving him, and that was true. He'd also said he'd thought it was his destiny, but that was not true. He did believe that he was fated to go with A'jira, but that was not why he wanted go with her. He wanted to go with her because… he didn't know why. He just wanted to stay with her.

And then they had met the dragons. Through everything they had told her, no matter how much it turned everything she knew on its head, no matter how much it shook her to the core- and it had, it had been plain to see- A'jira had stayed strong. She had accepted everything she was told as the truth. And Zaran had listened in amazement. His friend, his saviour, was the one destined to defeat the most evil creature every to set foot on Nirn and save the lives of everyone in the world. But what had shaken him most of all was what Paarthurnax had said before they left. He remembered it clearly. Each and every word was burned into his memory.

'_The two of you, _kaaz _and _jel_, __are bound together by something that is stronger than_ laas_… __stronger than life itself. You cannot avoid it; it is your destiny. You are bound together by fate.'_

And in that moment Zaran realised that it was true. They were bound together by something stronger than life, but something else too. She by destiny. He by his heart.

The longer they spent together, the more Zaran realised that his feelings for the Khajiit were more than friendship. Her smile made his feel warm inside. When she praised him, he felt as if he would burst with pride. When she was in danger, he was gripped by so much fear that it might as well have been him, not her, in peril. He knew he was crazy. They had not even known each other two days! But it didn't matter. He couldn't help it. No matter how much he told himself he was being a fool, it could not change how he felt.

And then, as the dragon prepared to snap its jaws shut around her and destroy her forever, Zaran had felt himself moving without thinking it through. All he had known as she threw himself forwards, knocking her down and out of harm's way, was that if she died, his life would not be worth living.

And when she had killed that dragon and taken its very soul, Zaran had felt pride running through him- pride for her. He had watched with awe as she told the people that the dragons had returned and that she was Dragonborn. She had said it without a trace of fear and uncertainty. She had been, he thought, truly amazing.

And that was the moment he had realised that he loved her.

Now, looking at her stunned face, he wanted to jump up and run a mile. He felt his throat constrict. How could he expect her to understand? How could she, when he didn't? All he understood was that he loved her- he knew he did- and that he would rather die than live without her.

As he waited to see how she would react, he realised that he had done the right thing. He could not have kept such a thing from her. Where was the honour and loyalty in that? Better for her to think he was mad but know the truth than for her to think he was sane while he deceived her. And anyway, the words were out of his mouth now, and there was no reclaiming them.

He sat and, heart racing, waited.

A'jira stared at Zaran with wide eyes. Was he being serious? Was he really telling the truth about how he felt for her? She waited, half expecting for him to burst out laughing and bang his hand on the table, crying, 'Got you!' But he didn't. He simply sat and stared at the table, as if he thought he would suddenly see the right thing to say written on its surface.

'Zaran…' She searched desperately for something to say. But what do you say when someone you hardly know says he loves you?

But no. She didn't hardly know him. She knew him well, better than she'd ever known anyone before. She knew his past. She knew what he liked and what he didn't like. She knew that they were bound together by fate. She knew that he would give up his life to save hers.

And she knew that there was nobody she would rather have at her side on this quest- or indeed for the rest of her life- than Zaran-Ra of Black Marsh.

It hit her suddenly. She had never expected this. Never. But now that he said it, now that she had him in front of her declaring his love…

Yes. She loved him right back.

And she said so.

His head jerked up. His eyes met hers again. She saw pure joy spark inside them, mixed with suspicion and uncertainty. 'Do you mean that? Or are you just saying it?'

A'jira reached across the table and grasped his hand. He gripped her paw as if it were a lifeline.

'Zaran,' she whispered. 'Would I ever just say something like that?'

Infinitely slowly, a smile spread across his face.

'No,' he said. 'No, you wouldn't.'

Neither of them really decided to do it. It was done almost instinctively, without thinking. It just occurred to them, at the same moment, that they should do it.

One moment they were sitting across the table from each other, each set of eyes burning into the other, hands clasped. The next, they were leaning across towards each other, lips pressed together.

It felt so good. So wonderful and so perfect_… _so _right. _A'jira felt as if she was so inflated with happiness that she would float away into the sky. Her heart was beating as hard as a smith at his anvil. A purr broke from her throat and filled the room, until it was as if the whole air was rumbling with joy.

It seemed like an eternity before they finally broke apart, awe and wonder on their young faces and their eyes shining. Neither of them was quite able to believe it, but neither of them wanted to doubt it.

So they did it again.

Zaran heard A'jira's purr grow louder, and he almost wished he could purr himself. But nothing could make this any better, any more magical. This was paradise, pure paradise. Just him, and A'jira, and their love.

He loved her. And she loved him back. She really did.

He was hardly able to believe that this was real. Surely it was too amazing and brilliant to be real, too good to be true?

But it was real. It was real, real, real.

He felt so jubilant, so full of delight. He felt like getting up and dancing. He felt like crying with joy. He felt… he wasn't sure how he felt. How could words begin to describe how he felt?

And then it hit him. He knew how he felt. One word with so much meaning.

Alive. He felt alive.

* * *

It was dark outside. Midnight had wrapped the world in its impenetrable black cloak, and the whole world was asleep. Only the wolves and owls stirred outside the windows. The stars twinkled in the heavens, like bright sentinels watching the mortals on the world below go about their business.

Zaran could not sleep. It wasn't that he was restless. Quite on the contrary. He felt peaceful, full of calm joy. But somehow he couldn't sleep. He didn't mind. He would be tired in the morning, he knew, but still… for now he was content to just lie there and listen to the sound of A'jira's slow, steady breathing.

She lay on her bed across the room from him, her tail twitching as she dreamed. He wondered what she was dreaming of. Maybe she was fighting dragons, or battling Draugr. Perhaps she was hunting in the wilderness, tracking down wild animals… he had no idea, but from the small smile on her face, he suspected that the dream was good.

Maybe she was dreaming about him.

He smiled at his own foolishness and shook his head. He was being too romantic, too day-dreamy. This wasn't a love story. This was real life and real love. Now that he had made his feelings clear to A'jira, he would have to act carefully. If he said or did anything the tiniest bit wrong, he could ruin it all forever. But he would try his best. Nobody could say fairer than that, could they? And if he did say the wrong thing… if he did do something awful… then that would be when he knew whether this really was _true _love, the sort of love his mother's stories had told of back in Black Marsh. If he did something terrible, and A'jira still stayed by his side, then he would know that it was true love.

But still… he hoped she was dreaming about him.

He lay there and watched her. He watched her chest rise and fall as she breathed, listened to her drowsy purrs as they echoes through the silence. He didn't move, he didn't say anything. He was content to just look.

She was so beautiful, he realised. Now that he had said it out loud, suddenly loving her became easier. Her fur, pale stormy grey with its striking ebony stripes. Her slender build and her graceful figure. And, best of all, her eyes. They were the most beautiful thing about her of all. Such bright, wonderful eyes. Shining amber, like two pools of crystallised fire. Eyes that were fierce and calm and hopeful and joyful all at once. Those eyes were the first thing he had seen of her, when they first met. He had thought her beautiful even then. And in his eyes, she became more beautiful with every passing moment.

Lying there in the darkness and watching, her noticed things about her that he hadn't noticed before. The way her whiskers and ears and tail were constantly moving, even if only with the smallest of twitches. He liked it. It was as if she was staying alert, keeping watch, ready at a moment's notice, even in sleep. Then there was the way that ever breath that she let out became a purr for the slightest of seconds. It was kind of funny, in both senses of the word. Both strange and amusing. Well, not strange, exactly, just different. After all, their races were different, about as different as you can get. The only thing they had in common was that they were both looked upon as 'beastfolk.' Maybe that was why he felt so safe around her. They were both despised. Maybe when other people hate you it is easier to love each other.

There were other things, too. Scars and patterns of stripes that he hadn't ever really looked at closely. Even the scars were beautiful, to him.

Every part of A'jira Tygra was beautiful. And if anyone ever, ever said otherwise when he was listening, he would fight them to the death.

Sleep reached out with its gentle hands, and pulled him down into its depths.

* * *

A'jira was dreaming.

They were strange dreams, unusual dreams, dreams that made her feel frightened and sad and angry and happy all at once. A fire was burning. Embers danced into the sky, borne upwards on the wind. People were sitting around the fire… two Khajiit, both older than her, fully grown adults. One of them looked like her, very like her. He looked at her and smiled, but before she could smile back, things erupted from the shadows. Dark things, angry things, hungry things. Things seeking blood. The two Khajiit leaped up, weapons ready, but already the shadows were upon them. A'jira could not run as they slunk towards her.

Then suddenly something huge burst from the sky and flew at the shadows. Bright fire came from it, burning the shadows into Oblivion. Then claws gently took hold of her and lifted her into the air.

'I am sorry, _dovahkiin,' _came a deep, rumbling voice from above her. 'I came too late to save them. But I can at least save you.'

She was with Zaran, battling the green dragon. She fell; it prepared to strike. Then Zaran was on top of her, crushing her into the ground, saving her life. The dragon missed. Zaran leaped up and fought it alone, fearless and furious.

He faced her across the table, awkward and afraid. But there was no trace of anything but the truth in his eyes as he looked at her and said the words that would change everything forever.

'_A'jira… I love you.'_

Then she was standing next to another Khajiit. She didn't need to ask her name to know who she was. Who else could it be, with the grey fur, the black tabby stripes, the dragonscale armour, the amber eyes? A'jira looked at her ancestor. 'I will carry on your legacy,' she promised, though she wasn't sure if J'shana had heard her.

That was when she realised that her dream and that of her ancestor had collided, that a dream from five hundred years ago had seeped into her mind.

But before she could try to make sense of it, she was standing somewhere else. The sky was dark and full of stars, with the constellations of the Mage, the Warrior and the Thief shining overhead. Around her were mountains and meadows, lush, green and beautiful. All the colours were brighter than they should be, ever so slightly unreal. She knew where she was by some deep, long-buried instinct. This was Sovngarde.

J'shana was standing before her, Derkeethus a little way behind. Both were smiling broadly, their eyes shining with delight.

'Welcome.' J'shana's voice was very similar-sounding to her own, though unlike A'jira, she had a faint Elsweyr accent. 'It is an honour to meet you at last, A'jira. We have been watching you. You have done so well.'

Derkeethus nodded. 'You have faced danger and death and despair with courage and loyalty. Skyrim could not have a better defender.'

A'jira wanted to say something, but she wasn't sure what to say.

'Remember this place well.' J'shana swept her arms in a circle, indicating the surrounding land. 'It will not be the last time you enter here.'

'Of course it won't be,' A'jira said, finding her tongue. 'I will come here when I die, won't I?'

J'shana smiled. 'Yes. But before that, you will see it again.' She beckoned, gesturing for A'jira to join them where they stood. She obeyed, not certain of what else she could do. Her ancestors stepped away from her and stood on her either side, forming a gateway around her with their bodies.

'On the very spot where you now stand, I shot the final arrow that ended Alduin's life,' J'shana whispered. 'On this very spot, he was vanquished and banished into Oblivion- never to come again, we thought. We were wrong.'

Derkeethus dipped his horned head. 'It should have ended then. It should have ended with J'shana. We reckoned without Alduin's will to survive.'

'Your life is so different to mine, yet so similar too in so many ways.' J'shana's amber eyes glowed. 'That is because, in a way, you _are _me. You were born to finish what I should have ended, but could not. This is the time for what should have ended five hundred years ago to end forever.'

'So it's going to happen the same way as last time?' A'jira asked. 'I fight him here in Sovngarde?'

'Yes. You do. That cannot be changed. But remember, A'jira- alike as we are, we are not the same person. Your destiny is not mine. Remember that.'

'I will.'

'Know also that I did not face Alduin alone. I had help.' J'shana let out a long sigh. 'Derkeethus could not accompany me, though how by the Nine Divines I wish he could have. But I still fought alongside friends, the Nord heroes of old. This time, it will be different. Arngeir is insistent upon it. You must face Alduin alone.'

_Alone. _The full force of the word hit her hard. It was painful. 'Alone?' she repeated, her fear showing in her voice.

J'shana knelt down and laid her hand on her shoulder. 'Do not be afraid, my child,' she murmured. 'You can defeat him. You must. You will.'

'I'm not sure I can,' A'jira whispered. 'Not by myself.'

J'shana's eyes burned into hers. 'You can. Remember the gifts I gave you?' She straightened up and smiled. 'The armour, the arrows, the bow, the Shout. They will all serve you well in the difficult times to come.'

'Thank you for giving them to me.'

'You needed them more than I did.'

A'jira hesitated. 'The Shout. What does it do?'

She saw sadness brimming in J'shana's eyes. 'I am sorry. I cannot say. You must discover that.'

A'jira understood. She didn't. She did. She wasn't sure.

Derkeethus flicked his tail. 'What you must know is that we are proud of you,' he said quietly. 'Never forget that. We could not be prouder of you if you were our own daughter.'

'You know, we feel almost as if you are,' J'shana smiled.

A'jira purred. 'Thank you.'

'You cannot stay here.' Derkeethus looked around, as if searching for something. 'You belong in the world of the living. But go with the knowledge that we will be with you, every step of the way.'

A'jira was ready to leave, but she had one more question, one she had to have answered. 'Zaran-' she began.

J'shana laughed. 'You are bound together more tightly than you know, little one,' she chuckled. 'Not just by destiny, but by your hearts.'

A'jira felt a warm glow inside her.

'Come.' J'shana turned her head towards the twinkling stars high, high above. 'Are you ready to return? Know that it will mean returning to your quest. The first battle, the battle to find yourself, is over, as is the battle to find the weapon I left for you. The third battle- the battle to find Alduin- is about to begin.'

'It might mean returning to Alduin,' A'jira said firmly, 'but it means returning to Zaran too.' Just the thought of seeing his face warmed her heart. 'I'm ready. Skyrim needs me- and so does Zaran.'

'He does indeed.' J'shana chuckled again. 'You have a mountain to climb. Sometimes you may fall. But remember that falling means you can climb again.'

'Mountains mean avalanches,' A'jira pointed out, and both her ancestors laughed this time.

'The path will be hard. But you will reach the summit of your mountain in the end. And you know what is the best thing about reaching the top of a mountain?'

The meadows of Sovngarde were fading fast, as if she was being sucked backwards through a tunnel, and they were being pulled the other way. 'What is it?' A'jira shouted, praying that they could still hear her.

They replied as one. 'Looking down on the world from the summit, and seeing the other mountains that have yet to be climbed!'

Then Sovngarde was gone, and she was awake.

'A'jira?' Zaran was standing over, her, fully dressed, looking at her with anxiety. 'The Jarl wishes to speak to us in twenty minutes. He is going to give a speech to the people. About you.'

A'jira nodded and swung herself out of bed. 'I'm coming.' She looked up at Zaran. 'Zaran… did you dream last night?'

'No, or not that I can remember. Why?'

'I dreamed that I met J'shana and Derkeethus in Sovngarde.'

He gasped. 'What did they say to you?'

A'jira looked into his eyes. 'Many things. But one of the things they said was…' She paused, trying to remember their words. 'They said that we are bound together. Forever.'

She saw him beginning to smile. 'By fate?'

'By our hearts.'

His smile widened. Then, without warning, he threw his arms around her. For a moment, she was startled- then she relaxed into his embrace.

'We're probably both crazy,' he whispered in her ear, and she laughed.

'I'd rather we were crazy and together than sane and alone.'

'Me too.'

They released each other. 'Let's go and tell them who you are,' Zaran murmured. She took his hand and squeezed it tightly.

'Are you with me?' she whispered.

For yet another time, green met amber.

'Always.'

* * *

**I really, really enjoyed writing that, so I hope you enjoyed reading it.**

**This is probably the last time I'll be able to update before I go, though you never know. I'll be back sometime in early June.**

**Please review, as I want to know what you thought of this! It was great writing it, but difficult, so I want to know if my hard work paid off.**

**Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed!**


	15. The Ancient One

**Wasn't expecting to get this done, but as it's another interlude it's a lot shorter than a regular chapter so I had time. And I thought I might as well go having finished Part Two.**

**Since this is told from a dragon again, translations are as follows. I guess you'll know some of these already, as we've had some of these before, but here they are anyway for those who need them, excluding the obvious ones:**

**Monahven: Throat of the World**

**Drem yol lok: Greetings **

**Kaaz(ze): Khajiit (plural)**

**Kiir: Child**

**Sosdovah: Blood Dragon**

**Joor(re): Mortal(s)**

**Bron(ne): Nord(s)**

**Fahliil: Elf**

**Jel(le): Argonian(s), though as I said before I made this one up.**

**Ogiim(me): Orc(s)**

**Vulfahliil(le): Dark Elf (Elves) though I partly made this up, by combining the words for 'dark' and 'elves.' **

**Fahdoon: Friend**

**Krosis: Sorrow**

**Dir: Die**

**Krii: Kill**

**Drem: Peace**

**Laas(se): Life (Lives)**

**Zeymah: Brother**

**Strunmah: Mountain**

**Dilon: Dead**

**Krein: Sun (also 'Shul' but that's only when used in a word of power, for some reason)**

* * *

Chapter Fifteen- The Ancient One

Location: Throat of the World

Date: 12th of Sun's Height

Past, present, future. All intertwined. Like roots of trees beneath the earth, wrapping around each other. Like the lives of mortals. So tightly wound that they cannot be separated.

From my perch on the _monahven, _I see them all. I see what has been, I see what is, I see what is yet to come. Remembering the past, watching the present, dreaming of the future.

There is a sweep of wings above me and Odahviing drops from the sky, landing on the other end of the word wall where I sit. '_Drem yol lok, _Paarthurnax.'

'_Drem yol lok, _Odahviing! You have news of the _dovahkiin?'_

'Of the _dovahkiin, geh. _She and her companion have left the barrow.'

'Good. So they have the _thu'um_?'

'She has the _thu'um.'_

I give a long sigh. 'I have shared dreams with J'shana. She has told me what the Shout does.'

Odahviing looks at me sharply. 'What does it do?'

'_Wahl zu dovah,' _I tell him simply.

His eyes widen. '_Nid!'_

'_Geh. _It amazes me that she was able to create a _thu'um _of such power.'

'Are you sure that the _kaaz kiir_ has the strength to use such a Shout?'

'I am sure. Remember, Odahviing, no mortal can stand against Alduin alone and hope to win. This _thu'um _may be the _dovahkiin's _only hope.'

He dips his crimson head in agreement. 'If there was one _joor _in all this land who I would say could use a Shout like that and control it, it would be her.'

I nod. 'Remember, she has _dovah _blood.'

'I know.'

I shift my balance on the wall and turn towards him. 'But enough of me. What is your news, old friend?'

Odahviing smiles triumphantly. 'A _sosdovah_ has fallen, slain by the _dovahkiin _and her friend. They say that several_ joorre_ saw her kill him and take his soul. Now let them deny that a _kaaz _is _dovahkiin!_ They have seen it with their own eyes.'

I dig my claws into the wall. 'That is good news indeed, Odahviing. But her path shall be made both easier and harder by this.'

He nods. 'Easier by those who would help her, harder by those who would hinder her.'

'We cannot deny that some _joorre _will resent a _kaaz _being _dovahkiin. _Some may call her a pretender, an enemy. But after she has defeated Alduin, they will be unable to argue with the truth.'

Odahviing gives a growl. 'There is only one thing I do not understand. Why did fate ever choose a _kaaz _in the first place? Surely it would have been easier for a _bron _or even a _fahliil- _someone more easily accepted?'

'It is because the _kaazze _are not easily accepted that they were ideal. If the path of the _dovahkiin _were easy to walk down, where would the challenge be in walking it?'

'I understand that. But any race other than the _kaazze _would have found it a challenge as well. _Jelle, ogiimme, vulfahliille- _they are all looked down upon by the _bronne. _Why not one of them?'

I look at him with a long, measuring look. 'Tell me, Odahviing. What are the… shall we say, qualities, the attributes, of the Khajiit?'

For answer, he recites the poem that the _dovahkiin _created.

'_Who battles the dragon and comes away clean?_

_Who uses their wits and their talons to fight?_

_Who hides in the shadows and walks unseen?_

_Who has the eyes that can see in the night?_

_Who hunts in the moonlight, and never feels pain?_

_Who falls from the mountain and lands on their feet?_

_Who has the blood of the night in their veins?_

_Who but the proud and the fearless Khajiit?'_

I laugh. '_Geh, _indeed. Who else indeed has the eyes that can see in the night? It is… symbolic, Odahviing. Only a _kaaz _can see light in a world of darkness. Only a _kaaz _can see truth in a world of lies. Only a _kaaz _can see hope in a world of despair. At least, that is what I believe, though I may be wrong. It may just be chance. Who knows how fate chooses?'

'Who indeed?' Odahviing agrees.

I look at him closely. 'Why do you hang your head so, _fahdon? _I see unhappiness in your eyes. What troubles you?'

Odahviing hesitates. 'Not all my news is good_.'_

From the grave expression on his face, I can tell that he is the bearer of much _krosis. _'What do you wish to tell me?'

He sighs. 'Laaskriiah is dead.'

'Laaskriiah? No, that cannot be true,' I hiss.

Odahviing lowers his head still further in unhappiness. 'If only it were not true. Alduin murdered her, in order to resurrect Sahloknir.'

'Sahloknir!' I spit out the word with loathing and fury. 'That traitor! Laaskriiah's life is worth ten of his.' I do not often give in to outbursts of rage like this, but Laaskriiah was always one of my most devoted followers. She was the first to swear loyalty to the _dovahkiin _after Alduin's death. For her to die now… if my brother appeared in front of me now, this news has made me angry enough to leap upon him and sink my claws into his throat.

'Is there any way that her soul could be reclaimed?' Odahviing looks at me inquiringly. I frown. If Sahloknir were to _dir,_ would the soul he stole from Laaskriiah return to her? I voice my idea to Odahviing.

'That is what I thought,' he agrees. 'Do you think we could ask the _dovahkiin _to kill him?'

I look at him sharply. 'Odahviing! We are her teachers and protectors, not her slave drivers. We cannot ask her to do such a thing.'

'I never suggested that we were,' Odahviing defends himself. 'I merely wanted to suggest that we see if we can reclaim Laaskriiah. If you think we cannot-'

'I have no doubt that the _dovahkiin _could _krii _Sahloknir,' I growl. 'But she should follow a path of _drem_, not one of bloodshed.'

'Alduin is making her path a path of bloodshed,' he counters. 'That child must learn to fight!'

'She knows how to fight.'

'Sahloknir is a traitor and murderer. Laaskriiah was loyal to the _dovahkiin, _and to us. Which of their _laasse _is worth more?'

'No one beast's life is worth more than another's,' I tell him, but I know I have already lost this argument. 'Very well, Odahviing. You may go to the _dovahkiin _and ask her to do as you see fit. But make sure she knows she does not have to do it, if she does not so wish.'

He nods his thanks and lifts into the air. His powerful wings carry him away from my mountain. Soon he is but a red blur in the sky, heading towards the _dovahkiin _and her friend.

I fear for them. They have such a difficult time ahead. Vengeance, honour, courage, friendship, love… all shall play their part in what is to come. Odahviing and I can only offer them so much guidance. And now all the secrets are out in the open… what does the future hold for them?

And the _thu'um _left for the _dovahkiin _by her ancestor… this is what worries me the most. It is most certain that without it she could not stand against Alduin by herself and survive. But a Shout of such terrible power! What if she cannot control it? What if it goes wrong? What if it does not work?

_Krosis. _I am worrying too much. I always do. I must have more faith in the _dovahkiin_- she knows what she is doing.

Her victory over my _zeymah _shall be the turning point for this world. At this moment, it is a world of inequality and unfairness. But what is true at one moment may not be true at the next. I know that, if she treads carefully, the _dovahkiin _can change this land of Skyrim into a land of friendship and love and peace.

Quietly, I sing the first verse of the long-forgotten song that honours her. It is a strange idea, a huge beast like me, worn and grey with age, singing. But I love this ancient song, for over the years when the _dovahkiin _was dishonoured and forgotten, it gave me strength, reminding me that a new _dovahkiin _would come, to make this world see clearly again.

_Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin  
naal ek zin los vahriin  
wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!  
Ahrk fin norok paal graan  
fod nust hon zindro zaan  
Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal!_

Or, in the tongue of the mortals:

Dragonborn, Dragonborn  
by her honour is sworn  
To keep evil forever at bay!  
And the fiercest foes rout  
when they hear triumph's shout,  
Dragonborn, for your blessing we pray!

As I finish the song, I raise my head and look out over the land that lies below me. From my perch on this mighty _strunmah, _I watch. This a sad and lonely life for an old _dovah. _With a long, slow sigh, I close my half-blind old eyes and make a decision. Once Alduin is defeated, it will be time for me to leave, not to return. I have lived long enough. Soon the time will come for me to leave this world behind. I do not fear to do so. In fact, I look forward to it. Once Alduin is _dilon,_ I will have done my duty. I have lingered in this realm long enough. Everlasting _drem _beckons to me, and I feel it is almost time to answer its summons. But for now I still have work to do here. Now that the _dovahkiin _has her weapon, it is time for her to seek out Alduin and destroy him utterly. May the _krein _light her path. And mine, too.

No, it is not my time. Not yet. Not until the _dovahkiin _has won. But when she has, and she will, I must away.

Dragonborn, for your blessing I pray.

* * *

END OF PART TWO


	16. For Skyrim

**I'm back! I've missed updating this… thanks for your patience, folks!**

**I've just noticed a problem in Chapter 12. When I was writing it I must have accidentally deleted part of a sentence without realising. It says, '****In a trice she had whipped it from her sort of instinct led her to the same paragraph as before.' It was meant to say ****'****In a trice she had whipped it from her pocket. Some sort of instinct led her to the same paragraph as before.' I guess you probably worked that out but I just wanted to make sure. Sorry for any confusion caused by this!**

**Right, enough from me. Back to A'jira.**

* * *

**PART THREE- ALDUIN**

Chapter Sixteen- For Skyrim

Date: 12th of Sun's Height

Location: Solitude

The people had come from all over Solitude, from all over Haafingar, from all over Skyrim. They were packed in the central courtyard, so many that there was no room for more. Every time they stirred, it set off a ripple of movement, like a pebble thrown into a pond or the wind through a field of corn. There was a buzz of excitement in the air, and thousands of voices were whispering and shouting and hissing, making every word spoken blend into the chaos of the million other words in the air around it.

There were Nords, Bretons, Redguards and Imperials, Dunmer, Altmer, Bosmer and Orsimer, and a scattering of Argonians. Outside the walls, a small company of Khajiit, forbidden to enter but desperate to hear what was about to be said, were arguing furiously with the guards. They had heard the rumours; everyone had. They had heard that the one who had slain the dragon that attacked the city and stolen its soul was one of their kind, and they wanted to see her, to be certain that it was true. But the guards on the gate stood firm, a scowling barrier of bristling swords.

A small stage had been erected at the far end of the courtyard. On it stood Jarl Thonrir, arms folded and eyes narrowed. His Housecarl, an Orc with a frown to match his Jarl's, stood a pace behind, fingering his sword. The Jarl's advisor, an Imperial woman, was close by, fiddling with her sleeve. Two guards were standing on either side of the stage, swords drawn in case of anything unexpected happening. There was a large space next to the Jarl's company, and everyone knew who it was about to be filled by.

Rumours flew, angry shouts and threats split the air, and guards struggled to control the crowd. Every heart and mind was filled with anticipation. Nobody was sure what was about to happen, but they all knew that whatever it was would be good.

At exactly nine o'clock, their patience- what little there was of it- was rewarded.

Two figures appeared to the side of the courtyard and made their way up to the stage. Both were clearly young, but they walked with the air of warriors. At the rear was a green-scaled Argonian with eyes the colour of a polished emerald, pale blue and white robes, crimson feathers on his head, neck and tail, and curved snowy white horns. Though he clearly did not possess much in the area of physical strength, his eyes sparkled with intelligence and the energy and fire crackling and burning around his hands proved that he had a mastery of magic. Clearly, this was someone who could hold his own in any fight. But though he intrigued them, he was not the one they had come to see. Every eye was fixed upon his companion.

In front of the Argonian, head and tail held high in the air, walked a young female Khajiit. Her armour shone like polished silver in the morning sunlight. Gasps echoed around the crowd as they realised that it was made from the scales of dragons. There was an ebony dagger tucked into her belt, with a blade clearly sharp enough to cut almost anything. The quiver of arrows on her back- ebony too- carried a threat of death in every feathered fletching, every razor-sharp point. The elegant black and silver bow she carried was so deadly-looking that it made several people shudder to just look at it. But it was the face of the Khajiit, with the black tiger-stripes stark against the pale grey, the eyes the amber of the rising sun, that made every one of them certain that this was a true warrior they were looking at. Someone who never ran from battle. Someone who would give her life for Skyrim. The orange eyes cast an enchantment over the crowd as the Khajiit stepped up to the stage and turned her burning gaze upon them. The clamour stopped, the whispering ceased, the chaos gave way to dead silence. They found it hard to look into that stare for too long. The eyes weren't just the same colour as the rising run. They burned like it.

If A'jira and Zaran had been able to see themselves standing there in front of the people, bathed in the light of dawn, they would never have doubted again that they were the ones to save Skyrim. Things had changed since A'jira had run from the guards in Whiterun, since Zaran had been thrown into the iron cage to die. It had only been a few days, but already they appeared far older than the two young beasts who had begun the quest. There was a light in their eyes, and a certain something in the way they held themselves… these two young ones, the watchers realised with a feeling of awe, were warriors. True warriors.

Thonrir beckoned the Khajiit forward, and she took a few steps towards the edge of the stage. Those fiery eyes swept over the crowd. She spoke four words- a single, commanding question.

'Where are my people?'

Nobody spoke, apart from one of the two guards on the stage, who saluted the Khajiit with his sword as he stepped forwards. 'They're outside the gates, miss. The laws of Skyrim say that the Khajiit are not to enter the cities. Obviously for you an exception had to be made, but-'

Eyes narrowing, the Khajiit cut him off. 'They are to be let in. Immediately. All the people of Skyrim have a right to hear what I am about to say. The people of my race have been persecuted long enough for who they are. No one should be looked down upon for something they could not choose. Let them in.'

'But, miss-'

'If the Khajiit are not allowed to hear what I have to say, then I will say nothing at all.'

There was a calm confidence in her voice. It was clear she expected to be obeyed.

With a sigh, Thonrir nodded to his men. 'Let them in.'

A guard opened the gate. Words were exchanged with the throng of beastfolk crowding the city entrance. One by one, the Khajiit stepped through the gate and made their way into the crowd, ignoring the hostile glares cast at them. Their eyes were fixed on the young warrior looking down on them.

'Thank you, sister!' shouted one of them, and a small smile flitted over the Khajiit girl's face.

'Now everyone is here,' she called, with a slight stress on the word _everyone_, 'I will begin.'

She exchanged a quick smile with the Argonian, and raised her head so that she was looking upon each and every member of the crowd.

'Before I begin,' she said, and her voice was loud in the silence, 'I want you all to know that nothing I am about to say to you is a lie. Not a single word. It is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.'

The people packed into the square nodded. Somehow, something in her voice made them believe her.

'I am A'jira Tygra,' she announced. 'My ancestor was J'shana Tygra. I doubt any of you have ever heard that name. But believe me when I say that you should. For J'shana was the one who made it possible for us to be alive today. She saved all of Skyrim from destruction. She was the Dragonborn of ancient legend, the one who vanquished Alduin five hundred years ago.'

A wave of amazement swept over the crowd, echoed in their whispers and shaking heads. A'jira raised her voice. 'You doubt my word. I can see it in your faces. But let me tell you, every word is the truth. The Nords of old despised the fact that a Khajiit, a member of the race that they mistrusted and hated above all others, could have saved their lives and their land. Her name was erased from history and all record of her existence destroyed- or nearly all. I am part of the surviving remnants of that record- her last known living descendent. Until recently, I did not know this. I was just another homeless wanderer, trying to make a living in a land that hated me.'

The silence as she paused was broken by a hawk screeching a hunting cry.

'And then I discovered the truth. I am the descendent of J'shana and Derkeethus, and I carry the dragon blood. I am Dragonborn. J'shana should have defeated Alduin five hundred years ago. But something went wrong. Some turn of fate that prevented his utter destruction. So I am here to finish what she was unable to. The first time he came, Alduin was cast adrift in time. The second time, he was ripped from his body. This time will be the third and last time. I swear to you now, I will defeat Alduin or die trying.'

A strange hush had fallen over the assembled people. Elf, man or beast, every one of them was captivated by the words A'jira was saying to them. Somehow, despite her youth and her race, they trusted her. They believed in her. If she said listen, they would listen. If she said believe, they would believe. If she said fight, they would fight. That was how it seemed.

Of course, all felt slightly different. The Nords couldn't help looking down and shuffling their feet in shame. Had their ancestors really done such a bold and terrible thing? Had their fathers and grandfathers disgraced the name of their hero? How could they have let that happen? But still, pride burned inside them, for they would not do such a thing. _This_ was their hero, their new hero, standing before them now. She wasn't quite what they'd expected, to be sure. To them, the word 'Dragonborn' conjured up an image of a huge Nord with muscles the size of Hjaalmarch carrying an axe it would take five men to lift as if it weighed no more than a feather. It definitely didn't make them think of a teenage Khajiit girl. Yet she was clearly quick and clever, shrewd and cunning. Though anything you couldn't use to swing over your head and smash a skull was not the ideal weapon in the eyes of most Nords, they couldn't deny that sharp wits were just as important as a sharp blade.

Yes, they felt pride. Some of them had lost loved ones to the dragon attack on the city, and they knew full well that this girl had avenged those deaths by killing the beast. They had seen for themselves her skill in battle. Others couldn't have cared less who she was or what race she was- all that mattered was that the Dragonborn was here, finally here. Others frowned with distaste at the sight. Their hero? Their saviour? A Khajiit? A _cat?_ But they were the minority.

As for the other races… the Orcs and Dark Elves couldn't help but smile a little. Was this a new beginning for them? Could a Khajiit saving Skyrim be the start of a new beginning? Maybe she would help to achieve racial equality at last. Maybe then they would be seen as equals and friends in this land that mistrusted them. She was not of their race, but maybe, just maybe, she was their way forward. And the Argonians felt the same, only more so. This was a fellow Beast claiming the title of hero of Skyrim. It was a new beginning, they were certain of it. It was time at last for the Beastfolk to take their true place in the world, as equals! And then there was the Argonian standing beside the Khajiit. He hadn't spoken, but he was the Dragonborn's friend, and he was one of them. Two Beastfolk saving Skyrim. What could be more perfect, a better start for their people?

Yet it was in the hearts of the Khajiit that the highest hopes existed, that the pride burnt most strongly of all.

They didn't think a new era was coming. They knew that it had already come. Why else would they be standing inside Solitude, inside a city that their kind had never been allowed to enter? It had begun with Whiterun. Now Solitude too. Times were changing. And they were changing in their favour. They had begun to hope the day that Jarl Brandor announced that Khajiit traders were to be allowed inside his city. Their hopes had grown as the people of Whiterun, over the days that followed, began to accept them. And finally… the time was now! The day was here! A Khajiit- not a man or an elf or an Argonian, but a Khajiit- was the legendary hero who would save them all! The Dragonborn, the saviour of all mortal races, was one of them!

Pride and admiration. Those were the feelings in the hearts of almost every member of the crowd.

But not all.

'That's a good story.' It was an Altmer who spoke, the pale gold skin of his face twisted into a sneer. His voice was high pitched, haughty and contemptuous as he addressed A'jira. 'But it's just a story, isn't it? I know your kind. Liars, thieves and murderers, every one of you. How dare you claim to be our saviour? All your race care about is themselves. Why would you want to fight dragons to save us?'

An enraged hiss rose from the assembled Khajiit, and a snarl escaped A'jira's throat, but it was the Argonian who stood next to her who spoke, voice taut with barely supressed rage. 'How dare you doubt her word, elf? How dare you judge her because of her race? I could judge you by your race, if you like. Remember who tried to invade Skyrim and caused the deaths of thousands? Why should we not judge you because of what your ancestors did? This is why, elf- the Thalmor are gone, and to judge you because of the crimes of your forefathers would be prejudiced and cruel. So why do you condemn A'jira because she happens to have fur and a tail? She could not choose it. Nobody, nobody at all, should be judged for something they cannot choose. So I suggest, sir, that you hold your tongue, or I will show you that just because Dunmer happen to be best in destruction magic, it doesn't mean an Argonian can't do it too.'

A few people chuckled, the Khajiit let their fur lie flat with expressions of triumph and amusement on their faces, and the Altmer ducked his head in embarrassment.

'Thank you, Zaran.' A'jira smiled at him. 'If anyone here is in agreement with the words of this Altmer idiot, then that's their choice. You're welcome to believe what you want. But you're wrong. And I will prove it. I will prove it here and now.'

Excitement ran through the watchers. A'jira raised her head skywards and Shouted in a voice like thunder.

'_Yol TOOR SHUL!'_

Gasps and a few screams came from the crowd as fire lanced into the air, bright and very, very real. But it was no ordinary fire. This was dragon-fire, and here was a mortal that had power over it. What with the dragonscale armour, the horned helmet, and the fire streaming from her mouth, A'jira looked almost like a dragon herself. And any doubts the people had vanished. There was no question of it now. This was their hero. This was their leader. This was their Dragonborn.

It was one of the Khajiit that started it, the leader of the caravan that A'jira and Zaran had encountered outside Solitude. 'All hail A'jira!' he shouted, fur fluffed up with excitement. 'All hail the Dragonborn!'

'Dragonborn! Dragonborn!' The name was taken up by the other Khajiit, and then by the Argonians, for this, they knew, was the new dawn of the Beast races. And then the Nords started to chant too, for even though their ancestors had done a terrible thing, that wrong was righted now, and here was their hero, the one their ancient legends told of, come to save them all. What matter was it if she was a Khajiit? And then the others took up the shout, some because their hearts were full of joy that this day had come, others uncertain but not wanting to appear hard and cold in front of the exultant crowd around them. And soon the name was echoing and re-echoing around the walls of Solitude.

'A'jira! A'jira! All hail the Dragonborn!'

On the stage, A'jira shot a quick glance at Zaran. 'Is it just me, or is this ever so slightly embarrassing?'

Zaran chuckled. 'Just go with it. You're doing great!'

Encouraged, A'jira pulled out her bow and held it high above her head, acknowledging the crowd with a smile and a flick of her tail. The cheering rose to fever pitch. There was some magic in the air that day. Only yesterday, the people in that crowd would have ripped to pieces anyone who dared to claim that a Khajiit could be Dragonborn. Now they would have ripped to pieces anyone who dared to claim that one could not. Something in the way A'jira had spoken to them, something about the look in her eye, had cast some sort of spell over the people of Skyrim.

Somebody started singing _The Dragonborn Comes. _More and more people joined in, their voices rising up in tumult to the sky.

_Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior's heart. _

_I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes._

_With a voice wielding power of the ancient Nord art._

_Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes._

A'jira could hardly believe it. Were these really the same people that had oppressed her and hated her all her life? Did it really take so little to win their favour? What was it about her that had changed them? A new feeling she'd never felt before rose up within her. For a moment, she struggled to put a name to it, and then she managed it. It was self-belief, and it felt good. So good!

_It's the end to the evil of all Skyrim's foes!_

_Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes._

_For the darkness has passed and the legend yet grows._

_You'll know, you'll know, the Dragonborn's come!_

'Indeed she has! _Thuri, Dovahkiin!' _

The singing splintered into screaming as the sound of massive, powerful wingbeats rent the air. A'jira's bow was loaded in an instant, as were the bows of the guards. The people started to turn and push against each other, desperate to get to safety.

But A'jira was already replacing her arrow to its quiver, a smile breaking over her face. 'Odahviing!'

'_Dovahkiin, _I have come!' The red dragon folded his wings and dived downwards out of the sky, landing on the city wall.

'There is no need to panic!' Zaran called quickly to the fleeing crowd. 'Odahviing is a friend!'

The people stopped and turned, taking in the sight with wide eyes. 'Odahviing?' The name was passed from person to person incredulously.

'Everyone, this is Odahviing. Most of you will probably know him as the dragon who aided my ancestor in her defeat of Alduin,' A'jira explained. She turned to the dragon and frowned. 'Why have you come, friend?'

'_Dream yol lok, joorre,' _Odahviing growled. '_Krosis… _pardon. I did not mean to frighten you.' His claws dug into the wall as he shifted his weight slightly to get a better balance. 'I come to speak to the _Dovahkiin.'_

'I'm here,' A'jira told him, stepping forward. 'But you've picked a bad time, you know. I was sort of in the middle of something.'

There were a few amused titters from the crowd. Odahviing shuffled uncomfortably. '_Krosis,' _he said again.

'No need to apologise. It's good to see you,' A'jira assured him quickly.

'And you, _Dovahkiin. _I came to ask if I could beg a kindness.'

'What sort of kindness?'

Odahviing regarded the crowd uncertainly. 'Perhaps it would be better for us to _tiinvaak _in private.'

Shouts of angry protest came from below. A'jira shrugged. 'I'd say 'let's go inside' except it's rather hard to fit a dragon indoors,' she said apologetically.

Odahviing gave a rueful chuckle. 'Ah, well, then. You remember, _Dovahkiin, _how Alduin is resurrecting those _dovah _who are loyal to him?'

'Wasn't he doing it by killing other dragons?'

'_Geh. _Upon their deaths, their souls are transferred to Alduin's dragons, resurrecting them from the dead.'

'Why come all this way to tell us that, when we already knew?' Zaran frowned.

'_Drem, jel. _Hear me out. A few dawns ago, Alduin resurrected Sahloknir, who lay in a place I believe you call Kynesgrove. To this end, he murdered Laaskriiah, who was one of our most loyal friends. I spoke with Paarthurnax, and he believes that if Sahloknir were _dilon, _Laaskriiah's soul would return to her.'

A'jira nodded. 'So you want me to go to Kynesgrove and kill Sahloknir?'

Odahviing's eyes swept over the crowd. 'I see you are busy here, _Dovahkiin. _You do not need to-'

'Of course we need to!' The battle-fire kindled in A'jira's eyes and rose into a flame. 'It's only been a short time since Alduin returned, and already too many have died!'

'A'jira is right!' Zaran nodded vigorously. 'What gives him the right to steal the souls of the innocent? He must be stopped!'

A'jira turned to Thonrir. 'Apologies, my lord. But it looks like we'll be leaving sooner than intended.'

'You can't go!' It was the innkeeper of the Winking Skeever who shouted, his arm placed protectively around his son, as if he was afraid that any moment another dragon would swoop from the sky and snatch him away. 'We need you here! What if more of those creatures come?'

The other watchers added their voices to his. 'Why should a dragon's life be valued over ours? They're trying to kill us all, you said it yourself!'

'What if we're attacked while you're gone? We'll all be killed!'

Odahviing roared, silencing the clamouring crowd. '_Drem, joorre! _Let the _Dovahkiin_ speak!'

A'jira crossed her arms. 'The reason so many died in the last attack was that you were unprepared. The guards weren't ready to fight and there was no evacuation plan for the townspeople. But preparedness can and will avert danger. There needs to be a permanent guard on the town, and all citizens should get to safety the moment a dragon is sighted. It's best to go inside your houses- the dragons will be more interested in the people that fight it than the people that run.'

'But some of us have wooden houses! What if they catch fire?'

'A'jira isn't going to spoon-feed you ways to save yourselves!' Zaran snapped. 'If the guards actually put up a fight next time rather than running away and letting A'jira and I do all the fighting for them, this town could be defended easily! Show some initiative!'

Thonrir stepped forwards. 'What they say is true. If proper plans are made, deaths can be prevented next time. And I'll send word to the Jarls of the other Holds, advising them to do similarly. The Dragonborn and her friend are needed elsewhere. They have other places to protect than Solitude. And we can defend ourselves if needs be.' He turned to A'jira and Zaran. 'You have my permission to go.'

'We'd have gone anyway,' A'jira said truthfully, and a small child in the crowd burst out laughing.

Thonrir nodded, his expressionless face revealing nothing. 'I'll have your supplies brought over from the Winking Skeever.' He snapped his fingers at a nearby guard, who nodded and sprinted off.

A'jira faced the crowd again. 'I know that you can meet whatever comes. We're needed in Kynesgrove now, but we'll be back. I'll always be back. I will not rest until this land is wiped clean of the scourge that is burning our homes and murdering our people! I promise you, I will fight to the death for Skyrim!'

'For Skyrim!' The two words were echoed back at her, growing steadily louder and louder until they were a battle cry.

The guard returned, carrying their backpacks. A'jira and Zaran heaved them onto Odahviing's back. The red dragon bent his neck down low, allowing the Khajiit and the Argonian to climb up behind his neck, A'jira holding his horns, Zaran holding her back.

Straightening up again, Odahviing roared as he spread his wings. The people cheered, shouted and waved, their cries echoing in A'jira's ears as Odahviing lifted off the wall, swept low over the town in salute and started to wing his way towards Kynesgrove.

'Good luck, Dragonborn!'

'Travel safely!'

'Show those damned beasts they chose the wrong time to mess with our land!'

'FOR SKYRIM!'

A'jira smiled as they rose higher into the air. All her anxiety at facing the people were gone. She had spoken the truth, and they had believed her. They had taken the word of a Khajiit. Her smile widened as she thought of it. Skyrim was entering a bright new era.

It was not until they were well into the air, at least an hour away from the town, that she realised something. She had made a speech to a crowd of every race in Skyrim, including the races that had shunned her all her life. And in that speech, she had said 'our people,' and meant it.

With all her heart.

* * *

**It's good to be back and updating! Hope this was worth the wait. *crosses fingers anxiously***


	17. Fire and Ice

Chapter Seventeen- Fire and Ice

Date: 12th of Sun's Height

Location: Kynesgrove

The sun was hanging above the mountains, making the snow shine like powdered diamonds. The clouds, looking like blocks of ice in a freezing sea, floated in clumps across the azure heavens. A hawk stretched out its talons as it came in to land on the bough of a pine tree, a small mouse that had been too late to run clutched in its beak. An elk bent its head to graze on a clump of grass.

The calm stillness was shattered without warning by a furious roar that ripped through the silence from nearby. The elk brought up its head, angling its ears towards the sound, instantly alert and ready to flee. A second roar followed, and the creature darted away with a skittering of hooves on the rocks. The hawk, which had dropped its kill on the branch, ready to eat, gave an indignant screech. Snatching up its prey, it flapped off towards the horizon, in search of somewhere to enjoy its meal in peace.

A third roar split the air. By the broken ruins of an ancient burial mound, a brown-scaled dragon reared up into the air, howling its fury to the skies. Sahloknir dropped back down to the ground and beat a wing on the stones. Snarling, he shook his head, as if trying to clear something from it. 'Leave me in peace!' he roared, though there was nobody in sight. 'Your soul is mine now!'

_You will never control me, traitor. My soul will never be yours, _a sibilant hiss sounded in his mind.

'It already is.'

_Not truly. You use it to keep you alive, like a leech sucking blood from its victim. But what happens if you suck too much, Sahloknir? What will sustain you then?_

'Be silent.' Sahloknir bared his teeth.

_Silent? Ha! Let me tell you, Sahloknir, you cannot live on what you steal from others for ever. Sooner or later, my soul will be my own again._

'It is no longer your soul, fool. It belongs to me now.'

_Indeed? If a _joor _steals a gold coin from another mortal, that coin still belongs to its owner, even if it is in the possession of another. You say my soul is yours, but if it were not mine, who is whispering in your mind, hmm?_

Sahloknir let out a roar and scraped his talons along the rocks, creating deep gashes in the stone. 'I said, be silent!'

Geh, _I know you did. But come, Sahloknir- how are you going to make me be silent?_

'You are arrogant now, Laaskriiah. You tease and sneer while you are strong. But soon you will lose your spirit. You will become weak and I will control you utterly. Then I will no longer have your accursed voice plaguing me day and night.'

The answer was mocking. _Poor Sahloknir. Am I keeping you from sleeping?_

Furious, Sahloknir lashed his tail, knocking over a young pine tree. It fell with a splintering crash to the ground. 'Silence, fool!'

_If you're having trouble sleeping now, just you wait. She's coming, Sahloknir! I do not have to waste my time trying to fight you when I know that she is on her way. The _Dovahkiin _will be here soon. I'd like to see you sleep then!_

'I will sleep easy once I have torn her to pieces. I will feast on her flesh and drink her blood.'

_Ah, foolish, thoughtless Sahloknir. Do you truly believe you can kill the rebirth of the one who slew Alduin himself?_

Sahloknir bellowed, rearing up and clawing at his head with his wings, as if trying to tear the infuriating little voice from his head. 'Will you never leave me in _drem_?'

_Not until your skeleton lies cold and _dilon_ at the feet of the _Dovahkiin.

'I am more than a match for a _joor_, and a _kaaz _at that.'

_Mirmulnir thought the same._

'He was a reckless fool. I am not.'

_No? That is news to me._

With a growl, Sahloknir thumped his tail on the ground. 'Of all the _dov _he could have chosen, why did Alduin have to land me with you?' he hissed, half to himself.

_Why don't you ask him? I'm sure he'll be delighted to know that you don't think his efforts were adequate._

'Adequate enough for me to return. Adequate enough for me to crush the _Dovahkiin _like a bug.' He brought down his foot, stamping on a spider to underline the point.

_Very clever, Sahloknir. I'm sure crushing that innocent little creature made you feel a lot better. But I'm afraid spiders aren't bugs._

Sahloknir frowned while he tried to think up an answer. Laaskriiah continued, and he could almost imagine the bronze-scaled face grinning mockingly in his mind. _Do you remember what happened last time, you thought you could take on a _Dovahkiin, _Sahloknir? I seem to recall that you were defeated by three _joorre _only minutes after your return. Sound familiar, hmm? _

Sahloknir roared so loudly that the whole world seemed to cower away in fear. 'I have learned my lesson from my rashness then! As Alduin has! As we all have!'

_Indeed. That's very interesting, Sahloknir. You say you have learned, and yet you fail to notice the fact that the _Dovahkiin _is standing directly behind you?_

With a startled grunt, Sahloknir spun around. Standing on a nearby rock, fitting an arrow to her bow, was a young female Khajiit in dragonscale armour, and, just behind her, an Argonian of about the same age, readying a lightning spell in his left hand and a fire spell in his right. A dark red dragon hovered above, a threatening snarl rumbling in his throat.

'_Drem yol lok, _Sahloknir,' said A'jira.

* * *

The journey to Kynesgrove had taken several hours. Odahviing had flown without stopping or tiring, but still, A'jira had nearly finished reading J'shana's diary by the time he landed. Zaran had slid off his scaly back with relief, leaning against a tree while he tried to steady himself.

'I'm sure you'll get used to it in time,' A'jira told him.

'Not likely.' Zaran closed his eyes. 'I hate heights. I hate flying. I hate dragons. I hate life…'

A'jira bit her lip to stop herself from laughing and waited until he was no longer in danger of being sick. Odahviing took to the air and scouted the area, returning with the news that Sahloknir was not far off, by his old burial mound. 'He appears to have gone… crazy, is your word, _nid_? Speaking to the air and clawing at his head.'

Zaran smiled. 'A crazed dragon should be easy enough to kill.'

A'jira drew her bow. 'Than let's get to it.'

Now, faced with a clearly furious dragon that looked like it wanted nothing more than to sink its fangs into her neck, she wasn't feeling quite so confident.

'_Dovahkiin! _You dare to come here, to face me?'

'Looks like it, yes.' A'jira aimed her arrow.

'Then you will be _dilon _before the sun rises tomorrow!'

'If you wish to kill A'jira, then you must first kill me.' Zaran stepped forwards, hands crackling with energy. 'And Odahviing, too.'

'Odahviing?' Sahloknir looked up, eyes narrowing with recognition. 'Betrayer of our overlord! Disgrace to our kind! Alduin trusted you, and you turned against him. You swore allegiance to the _Dovahkiin. _You helped her to bring about his destruction!'

'Alduin was too dangerous to let live.' Odahviing's tail lashed. 'His tyranny was one of fire and blood and anguish. But the _Dovahkiin? _Her rein was one of love and peace and freedom! You mindless servants of Alduin, you followed him because you feared him. We loyal _dovah, _such as myself and Paarthurnax and Laaskriiah, we followed the _Dovahkiin _because we loved her.'

Sahloknir let out a mirthless laugh. 'You have been spending too much time with your _joor _friends, Odahviing, if you value love over power.'

'You would do well to fear the _Dovahkiin, _Sahloknir.' Odahviing fixed his eyes on his fellow dragon. 'She is more powerful than you know.'

'Fear her? I do not fear _joorre! _I am Sahloknir! Hear my Voice and despair!' the brown dragon thundered.

'Hear _my _Voice.' A'jira smiled. She could tell from the way that Zaran charged up his spells and the way that Odahviing drew back his neck, ready to strike, that the moment had come.

'_Yol TOOR SHUL!'_

'_FO KRAH DIIN!'_

The Shouts of dragon and Dragonborn met in the air, fire against ice. Sahloknir took to the air, wings beating furiously. He angled his body and dived, but Odahviing swooped up to meet him. Talon clashed against scale, horn against fang. The battle raged as the two dragons fought against each other in a screeching, bellowing blur of claws, wings and Shouts.

'Zaran!' A'jira shouted as she fired her arrow, hitting Sahloknir's neck and causing him to cry out in agony. 'Get round to his other side! We need to trap him between us! Odahviing! Try and get him to land! I can't get a clear shot when he's in the air.'

She spoke quickly, hoping that Sahloknir wouldn't have a good enough comprehension of the mortal language to understand her properly. Both Zaran and Odahviing nodded to show that they had heard. The Argonian went sprinting over the burial mound, taking up a position in front of a clump of pine trees. Odahviing managed to get on top of the aerial fight and started buffeting Sahloknir with his wings, forcing the other dragon down towards the ground. Sahloknir twisted away and tried to take cover behind the pines, but Zaran's lightning bolt spell struck his chest, followed by a couple of fireballs. Seeing that escape was not possible from that direction, Sahloknir doubled back on himself and flew the other way, only to find A'jira aiming an arrow between his eyes. He dropped to the ground, turning to face them. 'I see you mortals have become even more arrogant over the years,' he snarled bitterly.

'Not arrogant. But more inclined to fight for what we believe in,' A'jira hissed, sending an arrow into his wing joint. Sahloknir drew back a little, but he almost seemed to relish the pain.

'It's to be a real fight, then! Good!' He licked his lips.

'For me, maybe!' A'jira yelled, ducking behind a cluster of boulders as the dragon sent a river of flame at her head.

'I will enjoy gorging myself on your flesh. Those that die in battle always taste the best, I find.'

A'jira had only one answer to that. _'Yol TOOR SHUL!'_

Sahloknir screeched with agony as the flames struck him, licking hungrily at his scales. Taking flight in an attempt to escape, he found himself met by two more lightning spells, three arrows, and an enraged Odahviing. 'Your Voice is strong… for a mortal,' Sahloknir snarled venomously at A'jira, swerving away from Odahviing's outstretched talons and diving behind the trees for cover.

An opportunity occurred to A'jira, as she remembered the battle with Mirmulnir. 'Zaran!' she shouted, pointing at the pines. 'Set fire to those trees!'

She saw her friend's eyes light up as he realised what she was trying to do. A moment later, his well-aimed fireball spell soared through the air, striking the largest tree and instantly setting it ablaze. The fire leaped quickly to the neighbouring pines. Summoning a flame atronach to help him, Zaran quickly turned his attention to the others. A'jira's strategy was the same one that Mirmulnir had employed during the battle on the forest's edge, except this time the tables were turned. Now it was the turn of the mortals to use fire to flush out the dragon from his hiding place.

It was working. Odahviing was swooping around the blaze, occasionally using a Frost Breath shout to keep the fire under control. Sahloknir rose up from the flaming trees, ash and embers streaming from his scales. He made for the shelter of another group of trees, but A'jira beat him to it. _'Yol TOOR SHUL!'_

That was fast becoming her favourite Shout, she thought with satisfaction, as the trees went up in flames just before her quarry reached them. He stopped abruptly in mid-air, looking desperately around for somewhere to hide. The trees were on fire, and offered no protection. A'jira was claiming the boulders, calmly sending arrow after arrow at him. Odahviing was circling in the sky. Zaran and his conjured flame atronach were blocking off all other paths of escape with their spells. He had only one place to go. Down!

Sahloknir had to make a split-second decision. Like a thunderbolt, he shot towards A'jira, hoping to kill her with the force of his dive and eliminate one of the threats. A'jira stood calmly on the rock, weighing up which way to leap to avoid the attack. But she never needed to. Suddenly, as if an invisible hand grabbed him, Sahloknir twisted in mid-air and slammed into the ground in an ungainly bundle of wings and scales. 'Laaskriiah! How dare you try to control me?' he roared, struggling to regain his feet.

He never did. Odahviing's flame, Zaran's lightning, the flame atronach's firebolt and A'jira's arrow- all struck at the same time. Sahloknir roared with agony, rearing up and thrashing the air with his wings. His final, anguished bellow hung in the air as he crashed to the ground. Then all was silent.

Odahviing descended and dropped onto a boulder, his claws making a clinking sound as he landed. 'Now, _Dovahkiin, _we watch and hope that we have done what needs to be done to bring back our friend.'

The fire began, as A'jira had known in would. Scales, wings, horns- all were consumed and rose up into the air, creating the familiar river of light. But this time, instead of entering A'jira's body, the light twisted and shot through the air, coming to rest behind a nearby rise.

'Quick!' A'jira was running instantly, following the light, with Zaran hard on her heels. She reached the top of the rise in time to see the soul hovering in the air above the stretched out skeleton of a dragon, lying on the ground. As she watched, it dived downwards towards the bones, covering them in flame.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then A'jira's breath caught in her throat as the bones started to move. They slid over the ground and rose into the air, until a fully-formed skeletal dragon stood before them. It raised its skull into the air, and bit by bit, the bones returned to life. Flesh, skin and scales flowed out over the skeleton, like fire spreading over a piece of parchment. It only took a few seconds. The fire flickered for a few more moments, then faded and died.

Golden-copper scales glowed in the sunlight. Ebony black spines glittered and shone. Two fierce eyes transfixed A'jira with their stare.

'_Dovahkiin,' _whispered the dragon.

Without hesitation, the creature bowed its head, reverence and awe in its eyes. 'I knew you would come,' it murmured in a rich, deep voice. 'I knew that you would free me from my slavery in the mind of Sahloknir.'

'Laaskriiah.' Odahviing stepped up to join them. _'Drem yol lok, _old friend.'

'Odahviing.' Laaskriiah dipped her head respectfully. 'You brought the _Dovahkiin _and her friend to save me. I am forever in the debt of you all.'

'I would not abandon a _fahdon,' _Odahviing told her.

Laaskriiah raised her head again and looked at A'jira. 'You are as fearless as your ancestor, _kiir. _Skyrim could not have a better defender.'

A'jira smiled bashfully. 'Thanks.'

Odahviing spread his wings. 'I must return to the _Monahven. _Paarthurnax and I still have much work to do, and many plans to make.'

A'jira nodded. 'Thank you for your help, friend.'

Odahviing's wings lifted up, then pushed down, lifting him up into the air. 'It was an honour, _Dovahkiin!' _he roared as he turned and started flying towards the distant smudge on the horizon that was the Throat of the World.

Laaskriiah watched him go, then turned back to A'jira and Zaran. '_Dovahkiin, jel, _I owe you my life and my freedom,' she announced. 'If there is anything I can do for you, say the word, and I will do it.'

'Good, because we need your help.' Zaran extinguished his spells and took a pace forwards. 'We need to find Alduin.'

The bronze dragon bared her teeth in a smile. 'Ah, so you are mortals of the businesslike kind? Well, I can help you there. Inside Sahloknir's mind, I knew all that he knew. And he knew where Alduin is.'

'Where?' A'jira gripped her bow.

Laaskriiah dug her talons into the earth. 'He came here only long enough to bring back his old followers. Sahloknir, Viinturuth, Vuljotnak, Nahagliiv, Mirmulnir, and all the others. After the _Dovahkiin _defeated him all those years ago, the _dov _either followed Paarthurnax and the Dragonborn, or they continued their _krif… _their fight, against the _joorre. _Alduin is killing those loyal to your ancestor, and therefore those loyal to you, in order to resurrect his dead _fahdonne.'_

'We know that,' A'jira said.

'And Alduin knows that you know. After you slew the Blood Dragon outside the city you call Solitude, word soon reached him that the _Dovahkiin _was back. And when he heard it was a _kaaz, _accompanied by a _jel,_ he knew that he was in danger. A _kaaz _and a _jel _defeated him in the days of old. He knew that a _kaaz _and a _jel _could do the same again. So the _nivahriin mey_, the cowardly fool, fled, as he did before, seeking shelter in the mists of Sovngarde, leaving his servants to kill the _joorre_. There he waits, _Dovahkiin, _for you to come to him. For it has been _prodah, _foretold,that only you can _qahnaar _him, vanquish him, once and for all.'

'Alone,' A'jira said quietly.

'Alone,' Laaskriiah affirmed.

A'jira drew herself up to her full height. 'Well. What are we waiting for? We know what we have to know. We know where to go. There's no time to waste.'

'Indeed. Your path leads to Skuldafn- the place the _dov _know as the World Eater's Eyrie. That is where the portal to Sovngarde lies. And only a _dovah _can take you there.'

Rearing up, Laaskriiah let out a jubilant roar. 'Ah, _Dovahkiin! _You freed me from the torture of having another in control of my soul. I was only in command for a few moments, when I stopped him from diving at you. You have no idea how it feels to not be in charge of yourself! I cannot do too much for those who freed me from such agony. I give you a gift, _Dovahkiin. _I give you my name. Hear it now. _Laas Krii Ah. _Take my name, for I am yours to command!'

A'jira felt something flowing through her, a deep and powerful knowledge. As with all the Words of Power she had learned, the name echoed in her mind, speaking itself to every corner of her soul. _Laas Krii Ah._

'Call me in your time of need, _Dovahkiin, _and if I can, I will come,' Laaskriiah growled, dipping her head.

'Thank you.' A'jira felt a thrill run through her. She now had three Shouts- Unrelenting Force, Fire Breath, and Call Dragon. She had Odahviing, a dragon as her protector, Paarthurnax, a dragon as her teacher, and now Laaskriiah, a dragon as her friend.

'I have a gift for you also, _jel.' _Laaskriiah beckoned with her tail. 'I have a lair in the mountains, where I have some items I think you may want. We can shelter there while we decide on our next move. We have much to discuss.'

* * *

Laaskriiah's den was only a short flight away, in a cave in the side of a mountain. It was roomy, as it would have to be to house a dragon, with stacks of weapons and armour heaped around the walls. A'jira guessed these were the spoils the she-dragon had taken from those foolish enough to try and kill her.

It was raining, so they gathered some wood and made a fire inside the cave. Laaskriiah led Zaran over to a corner to show him something, while A'jira sat down with J'shana's diary.

_I visited the Greybeards today. While I was there, I realised something. Though I am loyal to the Blades, and am proud to be one of them, if I ever had to choose, I would choose the Greybeards over them. I cannot forget how Delphine and Esbern spoke Paarthurnax's name with hatred and loathing, ordering me to kill him. I would never have killed him, of course, even if Derkeethus and I had not been able to change their minds. But I can never look at them in the same way. They really would have had me kill him- Paarthurnax, the wisest creature I have ever met, the one to whom we owe our lives._

_And yet the Greybeards, I think, take peace too far. There is a difference between upholding the ways of peace and harmony and sitting back and watching others fight and die and doing nothing. The Civil War still rages across this land, and I sometimes cannot see an end to it. The irony is, of course, that it wouldn't be happening if Ulfric hadn't left the Greybeards to go to war. But then, I cannot dispute what he did. I think there are times when one must fight. When the battle beckons, sometimes it can be impossible not to go. When you believe in something, you should fight for it. Tullius believes the Skyrim belongs to the Empire, and Ulfric believes in fighting for its independence. Who am I to tell either of them what to believe? You should always fight for what you believe. It is only when what you believe is wrong and unjust, such as the case of Alduin, that you have no right to fight for it. People who believe such things must be stopped._

_But I am getting distracted. What I was thinking was, the Blades go to battle, but they go to battle too much. The Greybeards, on the other hand, stay out of battle, but they stay out of battle too much. Is there any way to combine the two? A way to have a group that follows both the way of the Voice and the way of the sword? The Blades fight, the Greybeards live in peace. So why not have a society that fights for peace? A group who live by the Way of the Voice like the Greybeards, but fight when they are needed to, like the Blades? A cult that defends those who need defending, and fights for what needs fighting for, and pledge their swords to keep Skyrim's peace?_

_I do not think that such a thing is possible now. This land is still at war with itself, and, as the saying goes, a mountain split in two is sure to collapse. The same goes for a country. The world is not ready to accept such a society. But maybe, one day, someone with more wisdom than I will be able to create it. Maybe the reader of the future will be the one._

A'jira closed the book and sat, staring into the fire and thinking. Both the Blades and the Greybeards were long since lost. But maybe J'shana was right. For the first time, A'jira let herself imagine her life after Alduin was defeated. She saw herself in High Hrothgar or Sky Haven Temple, teaching the Way of the Voice to a group of eager young students. She saw herself leading them against a dragon, one of Alduin's old followers. She saw them defending the innocent and vanquishing the evil. Could she really do such a thing? Could it be possible? She hoped so. One thing was for certain- if she attempted it, she knew that she would definitely have a friend by her side to do it. She smiled as she looked up at Zaran, who was making his way over to her, tucking something into his pocket.

'What have you got there?' she asked.

Zaran fingered an ornately carved amulet around his neck. 'Laaskriiah said I could have this. It's an Amulet of Akatosh. It lets my Magicka regenerate faster. And something else, too. I found it and Laaskriiah said I could give it to you.'

He held out amulet, which had a cross-shaped charm dangling from it. 'It's an Amulet of Talos. Laaskriiah says it'll allow you to use Shouts quicker.' He looped it around her neck. 'For you.'

A'jira reached up and clasped the charm in her hand. 'Thank you,' she whispered, smiling.

Zaran kissed her forehead. 'My pleasure.'

* * *

Zaran sat at the entrance to the cave. The rain had stopped and the sky was filled with stars. Both moons were full, and the whole world glistened with their silvery light.

His gaze fell on A'jira, sleeping softly nearby. Zaran felt a smile creep over his face. 'A'jira,' he whispered. What a beautiful name that was.

He reached into his pocket and closed his hand around the thing inside. Another gift from Laaskriiah. One had had not told A'jira about. He would, when the time came. He hoped the time would be soon.

He would follow A'jira to the end of the world. He would follow her into mortal peril. He would follow her into Sovngarde, if he could. He would be glad join her in battle, to join her in life, to join her in death. But what he wished for most of all, he thought, as he fingered the amulet hidden in his pocket, would be to join her in love under Mara.

* * *

**That last bit was very enjoyable to write (:**

**In case anyone's wondering, Laaskriiah is an Elder Dragon.**

**You may be wondering why Laaskriiah's soul returned to her body wheras that of whichever dragon died to bring back Mirmulnir didn't. So am I. To be honest I hadn't fully worked out all the plot details when I wrote the earlier chapters. So let's just say that the body of the dragon whose soul was stolen has to be nearby for it to work, otherwise you get a dragon soul zooming around the countryside looking for its body, which would be really rather weird. Sorry about that lapse in organisation. **

**Skuldafn next chapter! Please review.**


	18. The Lightning Sea

**As I said back in Chapter Five, I'm still not sure about the rules when it comes to going to Sovngarde. So I've decided to make this chapter, and the following ones set in Sovngarde, a sort of tribute to all my favourite Skyrim characters who wouldn't otherwise appear in this story. If you find someone who you don't think should be there, don't worry, it's intentional and there is a reason. I'll let J'shana do my explaining for me.**

**I hope nobody minds my inventing my own dragon priest for A'jira to fight in this chapter, or skipping out most of Skuldafn. As I've said before, I HATE writing about journeys down dark passages. **

**Ok, so here we go. Can I just take this opportunity to thank EddyPM and Noodle12, who've reviewed several times and been really encouraging. And of course everyone else who reviewed too! **

* * *

Chapter Eighteen- The Lightning Sea

Date: 13th of Sun's Height

Location: Shor's Hall

The tales of Sovngarde describe a land of glory, a place of peace, harmony and everlasting joy. No anger can live there; no sorrow can thrive for long. It is a place of plenty, and those who are lucky enough to go there are blessed for eternity.

And usually, the tales speak the truth. Sovngarde is like that. Usually.

Not this day, though. This day was different.

'We have to act now!' A bang echoed throughout the entire cavernous hall as a fist was slammed down on the table, making the plates and goblets quiver and jump a little way into the air. 'Every day more and more souls are becoming his victims.'

'I agree with you.' A grey tabby Khajiit woman seated at the table, staring at its polished surface, blinked her amber eyes. 'But it is not for us to do.'

'How much longer do you want us to wait for your descendent, J'shana? Until every soul in Sovngarde has been destroyed by that monster?'

J'shana sighed. The end of her tail flicked. 'I didn't order any of you to come. I asked you to. You came to help me through your own free will. You decide you've had enough, turn around and go home now. I'm not stopping you. I'll understand if you want to leave.' She sighed and placed her head in her paws.

A Nord man with red hair and armour made from silvery black metal with the symbol of a bird and a moon emblazoned on it stepped forward. 'No, lass, that's not what he meant. But people are dying, J'shana. In this world and in that of the living. We have to do something.'

'I, for one, agree with Brynjolf.' The speaker was a slender Dunmer woman with unusual indigo eyes and the same armour as the Nord. 'I know this is A'jira's destiny. I understand that completely. But Brynjolf, Gallus and I didn't come all the way from Evergloam to sit around waiting for Alduin to kill everyone and anyone who tries to walk through that mist. Have you any idea how long it took to persuade Nocturnal to let us come?'

'What would you have me do, Karliah?' J'shana raised her head and met her friend's eyes. 'I cannot go against the fate that Akatosh has lain down for A'jira. None of us can.'

'J'shana is right. I understand your concern, but there is nothing we can do. This is A'jira's destiny, and hers alone.' Derkeethus, sitting beside his wife, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Karliah shook her head. 'I wasn't suggesting that we try and kill Alduin ourselves. Of course that's for A'jira to do. But can't we try and drive him out from those mountains? Or at least get rid of the mist?'

'And fall victim to that ugly great brute? No thanks.' This was from a blonde Nord woman with sinister-looking red and black leather armour.

'I think J'shana is right.' A Dunmer in the robes of an Archmage spoke up quietly. 'Getting rid of the mist will be a waste of time. Alduin will just make more. We have to wait until the final battle.'

'A battle in which we're not allowed to take part in,' muttered a Nord woman in imperial armour.

'There's a reason why we're not taking part in it, Legate!' Another Nord, a tall, blond-haired man this time, shot her a poisonous look. 'Who are we to go against fate itself? Against Akatosh? Againt A'jira's destiny as Dragonborn? We're talking about the saviour of all Tamriel here, or hadn't your infinitesimally tiny brain worked that out yet?'

The Imperial was out of her seat in an instant, hands clenched into fists, practically radiating fury. The Nord raised his eyebrows slightly, challenging her to do anything.

'Ulfric,' J'shana told the man, without looking at him, 'for once in your life, you're talking sense. Legate, sit down.'

Very slowly, the woman dropped back into her seat. 'Fine. But don't blame me if good men and women are killed trying to enter Sovngarde because we did nothing.'

J'shana was finally stung to anger. Now it was her turn to leap up and face her adversary- though in her case, the bristling fur, glinting eyes and unsheathed talons made it a lot more impressive. 'Nothing? Do you call summoning virtually every friend I ever had from practically every existing land of the dead to help me nothing? Do you call bargaining with Nocturnal, Hircine, and a whole load of other Daedric princes besides to allow everyone to come nothing? Do you call sharing dreams with A'jira to prepare her for what she has to do nothing? Do you call creating a Shout more powerful than any other and leaving it behind for her nothing? And all the plans I've been making, the tactics I've spent weeks working out, are they nothing, Rikke? Are they?'

Legate Rikke glanced uncomfortably at the floor. Tail lashing, J'shana continued. 'And while you've been here in Sovngarde, drinking mead and complaining that I'm doing nothing, A'jira's been thrown into her destiny with about as much warning as a Dark Brotherhood assassin gives you before he stabs you in the back!'

'Actually, I like to say, 'The Dark Brotherhood has come, prepare to meet Sithis,'' the blonde Nord woman interrupted, with a wry smile. 'Just before I slit their throat, of course. It adds a nice sense of dread to the whole thing.'

'Thank you, Astrid, but I don't think you're helping,' Derkeethus told her in a low voice.

J'shana continued to vent her spleen on her hapless victim. 'She's killed three dragons already while we've been here sitting on our backsides! She's delved into tombs of Draugr, flown on the back of a dragon, dealt with racist idiots and tried to stop a whole world from getting destroyed. And you're asking me to destroy her destiny before she's even set eyes on Alduin? Right, well if you want to fight him, fine. Off you go, I'm not standing in your way. But don't expect any help from me!'

There was dead silence as the irate Khajiit sat back down. 'Does anyone else agree with Rikke?' she hissed.

Those that did weren't idiotic enough to say so. 'I'm behind you every step of the way, Dragonborn,' Ulfric Stormcloak vowed solemnly, folding his arms. 'We may have had some disagreements in life, but we're all united against Alduin here.'

'Anything for a fellow Nightingale,' smiled an Imperial standing beside Karliah. 'You're in command here, friend, and I will obey.'

Brynjolf and Karliah nodded, murmuring assent. 'The Guild's by your side, lass, no matter what you ask us to do,' Brynjolf said, speaking for them both.

'The Dark Brotherhood's with you,' Astrid promised, drawing her dagger.

The Dunmer man nodded. 'And the College of Winterhold is at your back.'

'The Companions, too,' growled a white-haired man with steel armour and an enormous sword.

'Don't forget the Bard's College. We can bash the monster over the head with our lutes, if you like,' someone called, and everyone laughed.

A tall, slim Bosmer with stern green eyes got to his feet. 'I didn't know A'jira for long,' he said quietly. 'But in that time, I was impressed beyond measure by her courage and spirit. I think that if anyone can defeat Alduin, she can.' He dipped his head towards J'shana. 'If you say that the battle with Alduin is for her and her alone, I believe you. As should all of us.'

Nods and shouts of agreement met his words. J'shana's face broke into a huge, warm smile. 'Thank you, Faenlor. And thank you to all of you. Nothing in the world ever meant more to me than the loyalty of my friends.'

* * *

Location: The Throat of the World

Paarthurnax raised his horned head as he heard a roar from above him. Sending snow flying with the wind blown from his wings, Odahviing landed upon the plateau, his scales coated with a fine dusting of snow.'

'Odahviing! You have returned.'

'_Geh. Drem yol lok,_ Paarthurnax. I bear good news.'

'So, is it done?' The grey dragon swished his tail. 'Is Sahloknir _dilon?'_

'_Geh, dilon _by the _Dovahkiin's _hand.'

'And Laaskriiah?'

'Returned to her body.'

Paarthurnax's eyes glowed. 'That is indeed good news, old friend. Maybe once Alduin is defeated the _Dovahkiin _can also free the others who have been enslaved.'

Odahviing looked intently at him. 'Something troubles you, old one.'

Paarthurnax nodded. 'The portal to Sovngarde has been reopened. Alduin has fled once more.'

Odahviing let out a low hiss. 'He fears to face the _Dovahkiin.'_

'The _kaaz _is lucky she retrieved the _thu'um_ before Alduin recreated the portal. As you know, the entrance to the Barrow where it was hidden was built on the site where the portal lies. If she had been but a little later, she would not have been able to enter.'

Odahviing dipped his head in agreement. 'Laaskriiah will take the _Dovahkiin _and her _fahdon _to Skuldafn, of that I am sure,' he growled. 'This age of darkness will soon be over. The Dragonborn will enter Sovngarde and find her destiny there.'

Paarthurnax gave a sad smile. 'Strange to think that less than seven dawns ago the _Dovahkiin _was nought but a street child.'

'_Geh, _but she is a that no longer. I saw her making her speech to the people. She has become a _kendov.'_

'That is good.' Paarthurnax let out a long sigh. 'This land is in need of warriors now.'

* * *

Location: Kynesgrove

'_Dovahkiin! Jel!_ Awake, for we have a long journey ahead of us!'

A'jira sleepily blinked open her eyes. It was dawn, and the very first rays of the sun were seeping over the horizon. It was bitterly cold, though the cloudless sky promised a warm day to come. The dewdrops clinging to the grass and rocks made the whole world shimmer as if it were reflected in water.

'It's only just morning, Laaskriiah,' A'jira muttered groggily. 'Can't we just have a few more hours?'

'The _dov _rise with the sun,' Laaskriiah rumbled. If she could have shrugged, A'jira was pretty certain she would have. 'And there is no time to waste in slumber. Alduin must be defeated as soon as it is possible, _nid?'_

A'jira could sense that there was no arguing with the dragon. 'Right,' she mumbled as she pulled herself to her feet, too sleepy to say anything else. 'Yeah. Whatever. Zaran. Wake up.'

The Argonian groaned something incoherent and rolled over without opening his eyes. A'jira opened her mouth, exposing her teeth in a massive yawn. 'Zaran. There's a bossy, impatient dragon waiting for us.'

She heard a deep, quiet chuckle from behind her, and realised Laaskriiah had been within hearing distance. Zaran reluctantly got to his feet, moaning something that sounded suspiciously like, 'Not more flying.'

A'jira picked up her gear and started arranging it, tucking her dagger into her belt, slinging her quiver over her back, and sliding her bow into its holder. Then she took the quiver off again and quickly counted her arrows. There were about forty left. She hoped that would be enough. Zaran, meanwhile, was already prepared, since he had no weapons that needed carrying.

'Hurry, _kiirre. _Destiny waits for no one,' Laaskriiah called.

'I'm coming.' A'jira replaced the quiver on her back and walked unsteadily over to the dragon and the Argonian. 'Let's go.'

Laaskriiah lowered her neck, and the two of them took up their usual places. 'If you are going to sleep, _jel,_' the dragon chuckled as she straightened up, 'I would advise you to make sure you do not fall off.'

Zaran had already closed his eyes. 'I will try not to.'

'Good. Come, then! Let us fly!'

'Must we?' Zaran muttered.

A'jira laughed. 'I think the saying you're looking for is, 'I'm not a morning person.''

'You can say that again. And I am not a flying person, either.'

Laaskriiah bared her teeth in a dragon-grin, opened her wings, and leaped into the air. Her mighty wings swept down, catching the wind and carrying them upwards. 'To Skuldafn!' she roared.

'To Skuldafn!' A'jira cheered, already filled with the excitement and wonder that came with the sensation of riding a dragon.

Zaran said nothing. He had gone back to sleep.

* * *

Unlike Odahviing, who flew with the sole intention of getting from A to B, Laaskriiah seemed to revel in flight. She didn't just use her wings, she took joy in them, using them to ride the wind and rise on the thermals and dive towards the ground at speeds that would make the fastest of falcons jealous. To her, every breeze was a blessing, a steed through the sky, every gust of air an opportunity for play. She swooped and swerved through the mountains and forests, occasionally flying so low that her wingtips clipped the tops of the trees. At one point she even flew a slalom through a line of pines.

Zaran had woken up after an hour in the air, and was soon clinging to Laaskriiah's spines and praying to the Hist to make it stop. A'jira, on the other hand, was quite literally on top of the world. Was there any thrill comparable to the feeling of the wind rushing through her fur, and the sight of the cities and towns far below shrinking to the size of pebbles as they rose upwards, into the sky? _It's the dragon blood, _she thought suddenly. _There's enough dragon in me for me to feel like the sky is my home. If only I had the wings of a dragon, as well as the soul and Voice of one!_

'How much further is it, Laaskriiah?' she shouted over the sound of the dragon's wingbeats and the racing wind.

'Not far now. Beyond those _strunmahhe.'_

Mountains, A'jira translated mentally. 'Hold on,' she called, recognising the jagged peaks they were flying towards. 'We've been here before.'

'Indeed you have, _Dovahkiin. _I believe Paarthurnax told you about how the Barrow built by your ancestor was created on the site of the portal she used to enter Sovngarde?'

A'jira frowned. 'I think he did, yes. But I'd forgotten up until now. Does that mean that the Barrow's been destroyed?'

'We will see, _Dovahkiin. _We will see.'

The wind was growing more ferocious, and skilled in the art of flight though she was, Laaskriiah was having trouble keeping steady. 'We will have to land outside the ruins of where Skuldafn temple once stood,' she roared above the sound of the gale. 'The wind is too strong for us to go further.'

A'jira nodded. She turned to Zaran and whacked him with her tail until he opened his eyes. 'Zaran, we're nearly there.'

'I know. I may have had my eyes shut, but not my ears,' he replied with a small smile.

'Good. Keep your eyes shut, then.'

'Why?' Zaran half opened one of them suspiciously.

A'jira grinned manically. 'Going down.'

Without warning, Laaskriiah tilted her wings and went into a smooth, graceful arc. Within a second her nose was pointing to the ground and the tip of her tail towards the sun. Tucking her wings into her sides, she went into a dive, zooming towards the ground faster than a falling star.

'WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE HIST ARE YOU DOING, YOU INSANE CREATURE?' Zaran's terrified yell mingled with A'jira's exhilarated laugh as they plummeted towards the ground. At the last moment, only a feather's length from collision, Laaskriiah flicked her wings up, pulling smoothly out of the dive and making a neat, perfect landing.

'That was amazing!' A'jira stayed seated for a few seconds, gasping for breath and laughing her head off at the same time. Zaran stayed clinging to Laaskriiah's spines, muttering. 'Never again… never again… oh, Hist above, please do not let that ever happen again…'

'_Jel. Dovahkiin. _Look.'

Laaskriiah's voice was low and instantly A'jira could tell something was wrong. Sliding off her back and placing a paw over her eyes to shield them from the blinding glare of the sun reflecting on the snow, she looked up and saw what Laaskriiah had seen.

She stared in wonder. Ahead of them, behind the ruins of what must have once been a magnificent temple, was what looked like a path of starlight, shining up into the sky. It was perhaps the most beautiful thing A'jira had ever seen. The sun was bright, but somehow the light from the portal- for what else could it be?- shone brighter than all other lights. She seemed strangely drawn to it, every bit of bone and blood and flesh in her body straining to go to it. For a few moments, nothing in the world mattered more than reaching that beautiful light.

Then Zaran spoke, breaking the spell. 'Is that the portal?'

'_Geh,' _Laaskriiah replied.

'How do we get there?' A'jira asked instantly.

The dragon frowned. 'The winds are growing ever stronger. If I tried to take you there on my back, I fear you would fall.'

'Can we reach it by the ground?'

Laaskriiah nodded, but there was worry clear and stark on her face. ''When your ancestor came here, the temple was not destroyed. She went through it and emerged by the portal. There is nothing left of the temple now but ruins_, _so you will not have to go underground as she did,but it is dangerous. There are Draugr standing guard in the ruins. And standing over the portal- _Bahlok._'

'Bahlok?' A'jira looked quizzically at her. 'What's that?'

'Not what, but who, _Dovahkiin.' _Laaskriiah's voice was grim. 'In our tongue, his name means 'Hunger.' He is a Dragon Priest.'

A'jira let out a low hiss. 'I read about them in J'shana's diary. I thought they were extinct.'

'Something has awakened them. I believe it is the return of Alduin,' Laaskriiah growled. 'Bahlok is one of the most deadly of all.'

A'jira nodded. 'We can take him. But Laaskriiah- you're not to help.'

The dragon stared at her incredulously.

'I want to do this myself,' A'jira explained quietly. 'I want to be worthy of entrance to Sovngarde. If you help, it'll be so much easier, and I don't want that. I have to be sure that I'm enough. I'll be facing Alduin alone. I need to know that I can.'

Laaskriiah opened her mouth to protest, but Zaran spoke before she could. 'I think she is right,' he said quietly. 'I would feel the same way. But you're not stopping me from helping you, A'jira. I swore to follow you to Oblivion and back and I will.'

A'jira smiled at him. She knew there was no dissuading him, and his loyalty was more strengthening than the most powerful elixir of strength ever brewed in all of history.

'You cannot go with her to Sovngarde, _jel,' _Laaskriiah said warningly.

'I will follow her for as long as I can,' Zaran replied simply.

Laaskriiah nodded slowly. 'Very well. I will watch over you and help If your _laasse_ are in danger, but otherwise I will not interfere. '

A'jira nodded. 'Thank you, Laaskriiah.'

'Thank you, _Dovahkiin,' _the bronze dragon replied, spreading her wings and battling her way upwards into the sky. The flurrying snow hid her from sight within seconds. The weather was getting worse by the second. Already the clouds and flying snowflakes were obscuring the sun, making it as dark as if it were evening. It would have been darker still if not from the light from the portal.

'I think there's a snowstorm on the way.' A'jira had to shout to make herself heard. 'We'd better get this over with as quickly as possible.'

Zaran nodded, readying his usual battle spells. A'jira drew her bow and carefully the two moved towards the ruins.

Though it was hard to see through the swirling snow, it wasn't long before they could see the blurry shapes of Draugr moving about the piles of rubble. Zaran tapped A'jira's shoulder to get her attention and pointed at one that was standing on what looked like the remains of a tower, alone and revealing his entire body to them. He imitated firing a bow and A'jira nodded. She aimed her arrow at the creature and fired, crossing her fingers as it shot into the air. A moment later she was rewarded with the sight of the Draugr collapsing without a sound. The other Draugr didn't notice a thing. A'jira grinned and started to inch forward, readying another arrow as she did so. This time her victim was a second lone Draugr crouching not far away. It was dead before it realised what had happened. Zaran took a third through the chest with an ice spike. Three down. About twenty to go. If they could keep this up, picking them off in secret one by one, they might be able to get through the ruins without having to go through a full-on fight.

It was at the eighth Draugr that things started to go wrong. Just as she fired, a particularly fierce gust of wind caught the arrow and knocked it off its path. It landed with a loud clack on the stone. Instantly the thirteen remaining skeletal beings turned towards the source of the noise, their ancient weapons at the ready. With an angry hiss, she fired again, taking out the one she'd been trying to hit, but she hadn't considered the fact that it gave the Draugr a clue to their direction. The moment their comrade collapsed to the ground, their heads snapped towards the direction from where the arrow had come. Slowly, they started to move towards them.

Realising that a head-on battle was now unavoidable, Zaran conjured a flame atronach to help him and rushed forward. 'A'jira, keep back! I'm going to try out one of my new spells! It's called Fire Storm.'

At first A'jira didn't see why this didn't mean she had to stay out of the way and opened her mouth to ask. A moment later her question was answered as he charged up a fire spell in both hands and cast it at the ground. Instantly an immense whirlwind of flame sprung up around him, burning each and every one of the Draugr that had got too close to ashes, reducing their numbers considerably. 'Nice one!' A'jira shouted, firing again and taking out another Draugr that was getting too close for comfort.

Zaran treated her to one of his roguish grins. 'Been wanting to try that one out ever since I got the spell book, but I never had a chance!'

The two of them went back to back as the remaining six Draugr started closing in on them in a circle. Zaran's flame atronach brought one down quickly, and A'jira's arrow found its mark in another's neck. Zaran slew another with a well-aimed fireball. The three survivors circled more warily now, trying to find a way to break through their defences. Then, without warning, they rushed in.

A'jira's bow was a long range weapon, useless for hand-to-hand fighting, so she dropped it and drew her dagger, blocking the first Draugr's axe just in time. Zaran conjured a bound sword and leaped into battle with the second, sword whirling in one hand and a fire spell burning in the other. The third Draugr turned to deal with the flame atronach. The fiery being fought valiantly, but the Draugr soon managed to stab it right through with its sword. The atronach exploded instantly, which might have killed it but at least blew the Draugr into smithereens too. Unfortunately the blast knocked A'jira off her feet at the same time, and her dagger slipped from her grasp. Seeing its chance, the Draugr lunged down at her neck with a hiss of _'Sovngarde saran!'_ - but A'jira needed no weapons. Her power was in her Voice.

'_Fus RO DAH!'_

The Draugr was blown off its feet and sent flying over the edge of the ruined tower they were fighting on. There was a sickening crack as it hit the ground. It didn't get up again. Snatching up dagger and bow, A'jira leaped up and ran to help Zaran, but there was no need. Before she had taken three paces towards him the Argonian had given his opponent a hard whack with his tail, sending it staggering back and providing the perfect opportunity for Zaran to drive his bound sword into its chest.

For a moment they stood waiting for their next attacker to come, then realised that there were none left. A'jira heaved a sigh of relief as she sheathed her dagger. 'Thank Talos that's over.'

'Indeed, but we still have to face the Dragon Priest.' Zaran gestured to the glowing beacon that was the portal. 'And I doubt his reaction to seeing us will be to throw us a tea party.'

A'jira readied her bow. 'We can do this.'

Zaran turned to her with a quizzical expression. 'You think so?'

A'jira hesitated. 'Zaran…' She broke off, then, taking a deep breath, continued. 'I think we can do anything, you and me.'

A smile spread over her friend's face. No reply was needed. The look of loyalty and love in his eyes told A'jira more than all the words he could ever say.

'Bahlok, here we come,' she grinned.

'For Skyrim,' Zaran said.

'For Skyrim,' A'jira confirmed.

Without any further hesitation, Argonian and Khajiit turned and ran towards that beautiful, beckoning finger of light. Their feet pounded on the rubble and stones as they sprinted towards the portal. Then A'jira suddenly skidded to a stop.

'What is it?' Zaran shouted in instant concern.

'Word Wall!' A'jira could hear the familiar rhythmic chanting coming from behind a pile of boulders not far away. She pressed her shoulder up against the largest of them and pushed with all her strength. Zaran came to help her and together they managed to make it fall aside, revealing the wall with the glowing symbols standing behind it. A'jira closed her eyes and let the Word of Power flow through her. _Strun._

'What was it?' Zaran asked as she opened her eyes again.

'_Strun.'_

'Do you know what that means?'

'No. But I don't think we have time to test it out.' The Draugr had been right when it said _Sovngarde saraan. _Sovngarde was most certainly awaiting.

Zaran nodded and they took off again, through broken archways and up dilapidated staricases. And finally, finally, they stood at the foot of the final set of stairs. The stairs that led to the portal. To Sovngarde.

A'jira reached the top. She recognised the place instantly. This was the place where the entrance to Dragonborn Barrow was- or rather, where it had once been. The dragon-shaped pillars had been ripped apart and the ornately carved roof was lying in pieces on the ground. Where the temple had been was something that had not been there before- a large spiral carved on the floor. A set of stairs in front of it led to a seal carved on the stone.

They also led to Bahlok. The Dragon Priest.

He was unlike anything A'jira had ever seen. If she could have placed bitterness, rage, hatred, despair, dread and hunger inside a body, it would have looked like the Dragon Priest. From the mask to the shadows that clustered around it, every inch of the thing oozed evil. It was the personification of darkness, the incarnation of malevolence.

And it was coming straight towards them.

Without hesitation, Zaran summoned a flame atronach and readied his destruction spells. Bahlok stopped in his approach and charged up a spell of his own, aiming it at the Argonian's head. Zaran conjured a ward just in time to block the ice spike that was hurled at him. A'jira ran behind a pillar, aiming for the Priest's head. Perfect shot. Bahlok stopped as he was hit and turned, surveying the three of them, mage, archer and atronach, as if deciding which of them to attack.

Clearly making up his mind to eliminate the weakest threat first and foremost, he drifted towards the flame atronach. Then he seemed to change his mind and aimed a spell at the ground. A purple vortex appeared in mid-air, and when it faded, a frost atronach was standing by Bahlok's side, pounding its huge, icy fists on the ground.

The two atronachs rushed forwards to meet each other, and A'jira and Zaran were left facing the Dragon Priest alone. The masked face turned towards A'jira, and she heard a hissing voice emanate from behind the mask. _'Dovahkiin…'_

A'jira nodded. 'That's right, Bahlok! Dragonborn! Want a demonstration? _Yol TOOR SHUL!'_

The flames forced the Priest back a little, exposing it to their attacks. Then a huge explosion came from behind her- Bahlok's frost atronach had triumphed over Zaran's flame one, and was thumping its way towards them.

'I'll hold it off!' Zaran spun around and focused his fire spells on the atronach, leaving A'jira and Bahlok alone against each other. No matter how many arrows met in him, the Priest kept coming, launching a relentless barrage of spells and confusing words in dragon language that gave A'jira no time to catch her breath, no time to think through her actions. Again, she was acting on instinct. And since her instincts were nearly always right, she relaxed her mind a little and let them take over.

Almost instantly, an idea occurred to her. She fired a final arrow, which drove Bahlok back a little way until he was next to a towering pile of rubble. She sheathed her bow . Clutching the Amulet of Talos Zaran had given her, she leaped back a pace and Shouted at the top of her voice. '_Fus RO DAH!'_

The Shout sent the Dragon Priest flying backwards into the rubble pile. For a moment that dragged on for years, it teetered tantalisingly. Then it fell, collapsing with an earsplitting crash on top of Bahlok. The Dragon Priest's staff was sent spinning through the air as four enormous boulders plummeted down on top of him, tearing him to the ground and crushing the life out of him. A final screech came from the pile of rocks. The frost atronach exploded into a thousand pieces. With a clink, the Priest's mask fell from between two rocks and onto the ground, landing face down with a clatter. A'jira bent down and picked it up, along with the staff.

The battle was won.

A rush of wings, and Laaskriiah dropped from the sky, landing beside the portal. 'Well done, _dovahkiin. _Well done, _jel. _You fought like the warriors you are.'

Zaran and A'jira looked at each other, beaming.

The Elder Dragon waved one wing towards a set of stairs that led up to a seal carved onto the stone. 'Bahlok took the staff, closing the portal. Now, _Dovahkiin, _your time has come! Return the staff to the seal and open the gateway to Sovngarde!'

A'jira nodded slowly. Handing the mask to Zaran, she turned and ascended the steps. Raising the staff high above her head, she took a deep breath and brought it down, into the hole in the seal.

Instantly, the spiral carved onto the ground in front of them started to glow and rise up. Then it sank down again, retreating into the ground. The pillar of light rose up again and soared upwards into the sky, a doorway to another world. A doorway A'jira could not resist. She looked down into the portal, and the swirling energy crackling within it made it look like a sea of lightning.

'It's time,' A'jira said, and her voice did not sound like her own.

She heard feet on the stone behind her, and turned to see Zaran walking up the steps. There were tears in his eyes.

A'jira ran to him and fell into his embrace. 'I wish you could come,' she whispered, holding him as if she would never let go.

'So do I,' he murmured, and she felt as if her heart would break. 'But this is your destiny, A'jira. And I know you can do it.'

She felt stirred by her friend, by his faith. At that moment, she felt as if she could do anything, fuelled by his love.

She didn't want that embrace to end, but it had to. They stepped apart, neither of them trying to stop their tears from coming.

'I _will _return,' A'jira vowed, and she knew with a deep certainty in her heart that she would. Because Zaran would be waiting for her and she had to come back. For him.

He smiled through his tears. 'I know you will.'

A'jira turned towards the portal. Then she turned back to Zaran, because her heart was breaking and she had to do it, just one last time, just in case she didn't come back-

And Zaran saw in her eyes what she wanted and held out his arms to her. She fell into them for a second time. His lips found hers, and that was how they stayed for what might have been only a few second yet might have been a thousand years, alone in a paradise made only for them.

'The portal calls, _Dovahkiin,' _Laaskriiah reminded them gently. 'The time is now.'

The portal. Yes. The time had come.

They finally broke apart. 'I love you,' A'jira whispered.

'I love you too,' Zaran replied earnestly. 'And I know you'll see us through this, no matter what.'

A'jira breathed in, long, deep and slow. Zaran nodded to her. She smiled as best as she could in return and turned back towards the portal.

'Fare thee well, _Dovahkiin,' _Laaskriiah rumbled.

'Believe in yourself, A'jira! You were born to do this!' Zaran's words gave her the strength she needed. She raised her eyes to the sky and looked at the mountains- perhaps the final thing she would see of her beloved homeland. For Elsweyr might have been where her ancestors came from, but Skyrim was where her heart lay.

'Sovngarde, I'm coming!' she cried.

_Goodbye, Zaran, _she thought._ I will return._

Then she leaped.

She fell down, but it seemed almost as if she was rising up at the same time. Down she fell, through the light and the darkness and the swirling storms, and into another world.

Zaran and Laaskriiah stood alone in the ruins of Skuldafn, watching her disappear into the portal.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Laaskriiah let out a long sigh. 'She is gone. And now there is nothing we can do but wait. And pray.'

'What do we do now?' Zaran was surprised at how husky his voice sounded.

'What can we do? We must go to the Throat of the World. That is where she will return to Nirn.'

Zaran's eyes narrowed. He couldn't do this. He couldn't simply sit back and let A'jira face death incarnate alone.

Laaskriiah gave a gasp of horror as she realised what he was about to do. _'Jel, _no!'

Zaran paid her no heed. He took two steps forward and threw himself down off the ledge. The sea of stars rose up to swallow him as he plunged into the portal after A'jira.

And the lightning sea took them both.

* * *

**So, the die is cast… What awaits our heroes in Sovngarde? There's only one way to find out…**

**Reviews much appreciated, as always.**


	19. Land of Heroes

**I've been asked a few times about the selection of characters J'shana summoned to help her in Sovngarde, in particular the presence of Astrid and the absence of General Tullius. Basically, the reason I got so many people is mostly because I wanted to show how much depended on A'jira in the final battle (and also it's going to come in useful in the fight, as we will later see.) I hoped it would show that all of Tamriel is relying on her so much that J'shana's call to arms was able to unite even the oldest of foes. To be perfectly honest I wasn't sure about including Astrid either, but I wanted all four of the main factions there for the final battle (Thieves Guild, Dark Brotherhood, Companions and College of Winterhold) so Astrid really had to be there as their leader, even though she did betray them. I considered including Tullius, but I figured he wasn't really the sort of person who'd want to do it, though you never know. Just because I haven't mentioned him doesn't mean he's not there. You can decide that for yourselves. Hope this clears up any problems. If you've got any more questions, feel free to PM me and I'll do my best to answer them.**

* * *

Chapter Nineteen- Land of Heroes

Date: 13th of Sun's Height

Location: Sovngarde

Mists shroud the mountains. My wings beat against the air. My eyes scour the ground below. I am searching. Searching for souls.

There! Down, hidden in the white clouds of swirling vapour, a lone _joor _struggling through the mist. A smile spreads across my face as I dive. I knife through the fog and strike like a bolt of lightning. A single despairing scream rips through the silence.

My talons dig in. I lift off into the air again, bearing the limp form in my claws. I reach the crag where I am taking shelter and land, sending a few rocks falling down from the _strunmah _and onto the plains below. I drop my victim and bite down into his body, revelling in the taste of blood. Eating the spirits of the _dilon _cannot compare to feasting on the living, but I need sustenance if I am to survive.

I loathe hiding here. But it is necessary. For if I were to stay in the mortal world, she could find me. The _Dovahkiin. _And if she found me there it would be my _dinok. _But here, I have my mists to hide me, and I can lurk here in the _strunmahhe _until I am ready to face her. For it is foretold that here in this land where the dead walk, she will face me alone, and only one of us will survive.

It will be me. Who can face Alduin alone and live?

As I reach down to take another bite from the corpse at my feet, something in the distance catches my eye. I turn and see a bright, golden light shining through the mist. The ground shakes, even the mountains quivering. Thunderclouds rend the air, and for a single, dazzling seconds, a bolt of _qo _rips across the sky in a jagged white line. As its light fades, I let out a long, low hiss. This can only mean one thing.

The _Dovahkiin _is come.

* * *

A'jira saw the ground rushing up to meet her and braced herself, landing lightly on her feet in the way of all Khajiit. For a few moments she stood, dazed, where she was, hardly able to believe that she was walking on the ground and breathing in the air of Sovngarde.

Sovngarde. The realisation hit her hard, almost like a physical blow. She had arrived. This was where she would face Alduin, the World-Eater, with no one to help her. And one of them was sure to die.

She knew there was no time to waste, but still, she turned on the spot, taking in her surroundings. To her surprise, she couldn't see a thing. She was surrounded in thick white fog, so dense she couldn't see her own tail properly. She couldn't even see the sky. 'Alduin,' she hissed under her breath. This was his doing, without a doubt. He was skulking somewhere in this mist, ready to swoop down and destroy her. Well, she wasn't going to let him. She'd find Shor's Hall somehow, no matter how long it took, for she knew that was where J'shana would be waiting.

She started to run. The quicker she got out of this mist, the better.

Within moments, she had vanished into the fog.

* * *

The breath was knocked out of Zaran as the portal spat him out and he landed heavily on the ground. Winded, he lay gasping for a moment before staggering to his feet and trying to work out where he was. Was this Sovngarde? It must be, for he had definitely come through the portal. But why all the mist? He had thought that Sovngarde was meant to be full of light, a beautiful place with mountains and grasslands. Nothing he'd been told said anything about mist.

Picking a direction at random, he took two steps forward and smacked headfirst into a rock. Angrily, he rubbed his face and cast a Candlelight spell. Useless. Then he tried Clairvoyance. Though a blue glow came from the ground, try as he might he could not see where it lead. The fog was too thick.

He was on his own, then. He readied a Lightning Bolt spell in his left hand and conjured a bound sword in his right. Warily, he took a few steps forward, luckily not colliding with anything this time.

'A'jira?' he called nervously.

No reply.

Taking a deep breath, he moved off into the mists.

* * *

A'jira wasn't sure what direction she was going in, nor how long she had been going for. The mist smothered everything, and it was impossible to tell where to go.

She stopped and sat down on a rock. This was useless. She had to try and find a way of getting to Shor's Hall, and blundering about wasn't getting her anywhere. She could no longer rely on her sense of sight. Her other senses were going to have to take over. She ran through them, one by one. Smell. She could detect several scents, but she couldn't put names to any of them. Hearing. No sounds but the whistling of the wind. Taste and feeling were useless. She was about to move on to her sixth sense when she realised that she had made a mistake. She could hear something apart from the wind. She stood up and focused. There was no doubt about it. Heart thumping wildly, she drew her bow.

The sound was that of wingbeats.

She loaded an arrow and stood, waiting, waiting, waiting. The sound grew louder, and now it was joined by a roar. She pulled back her bowstring, stretching it as far as it would go. A black shape loomed towards her out of the mist.

'_Dovahkiin!' _If the end of the world had a voice, it would sound like the voice of the creature coming towards her.

But A'jira held her ground, aiming her shot and preparing to fire.

'ALDUIN!' she shouted.

He burst from the fog, red eyes gleaming and ebony scales black as the darkest of nightmares. His bat-like wings blocked out any light that might have come from the stars hidden by the mist as he spread them wide. 'You have come, _Dovahkiin, _as I knew you would!' His voice made A'jira want to run and hide, but she stood firm. 'And I, I too have come! For I am Alduin! First-Born of Akatosh! The World Eater!'

'And I am A'jira Tygra.' She was alarmed at just how calm she sounded when inwardly she was dying from fear. 'Descendent of J'shana Tygra. I don't fear you, Alduin. I was born to bring about your destruction.'

Alduin laughed, a cold, evil sound that filled A'jira with dread. _'__Dovahkiin, hin kah fen kos bonaar._ _Zu'u Alduin, zok sahrot do naan ko Lein! Kel drey ni viik. Dovahkiin drey ni viik. Zu'u lost daal, nu hin sil fen nahkip suleyki!'_

'Don't suppose you'd like to talk in a language I understand?' Even faced with this creature from the darkest corners of the universe, A'jira refused to show fear.

'Ha! You are like your ancestor. Such arrogance, to take for yourself the name of _dovah _when you do not even know our tongue!' He stopped hovering and started to swoop in a circle around her. '_Dovahkiin, _your pride will be humbled. I am Alduin, most mighty of any in the world! The Elder Scroll did not defeat me. The Dragonborn did not defeat me. I have returned, and now your soul will feed my power!'

'Then come and take it!' A'jira roared, and loosed her arrow.

It buried itself in the raven-black scales, but Alduin's only response was to laugh again. Then he dived, not attacking her but instead swooping low over her head. She saw his tail swinging towards her and ducked. Too late.

It smacked into her helmet. Stars exploded inside her head. She fell to the ground. She heard Alduin laugh again, and she felt a feeling of disbelief. _Is it already over? _she thought. _Have I already lost, before I even fought him?_

Darkness moved in to consume her. _I'm sorry. I couldn't do it. I'm sorry, J'shana. I'm sorry, Skyrim. I'm sorry, Zaran._

Then blackness.

* * *

I beat my wings against the air, gaining height, preparing to dive down again and finish the _Dovahkiin_ for good. The battle is already won! She was easy prey, for her Voice is young and weak. She does not even have Dragonrend, the weapon of her ancestor. She will die here and now, and my power will be absolute. None will be able to defeat me one she is _dilon._

Suddenly, there is a _twang. _An arrow zips through the fog and hits my shoulder. I give a snarl of alarm. Has the _Dovahkiin _awakened? I thought I had stunned her with that blow. Then I smell a foreign scent and spot three _joorre _advancing through my mist, two holding swords and the other, I think a _vulfahliil,_ a bow. As I watch, she draws back her string to fire again.

I realise that this is not the right time. The final battle between the _Dovahkiin _and I will be only the two of us. These _joorre _will try to stand between me and the Dragonborn. Well, let them. There are too many for me to fight and be certain of victory, and I have my fog to hide me. I do not need to risk injury fighting this fools when I can face the _kaaz _alone later and be certain of her death. I turn and fly back through the mist toward my mountain, ashamed that I had to retreat, but confident that next time the _Dovahkiin _and I meet, she will not be so lucky.

After a while, the scent of the _joorre _fades and I decide I have put enough distance between them and me. I can smell a different scent though, coming closer. Ha! Another soul for me to feed on. I swoop towards it. It is a lone _jel. _Easy prey.

I angle my body and prepare to attack.

* * *

A'jira felt the world returning to her, but she didn't open her eyes. She wasn't sure what she was going to see. Maybe Alduin, laughing over his easy victory. Maybe the heroes of Sovngarde, shaking their heads with despair as they realised that she had already lost to him. Maybe Tsun, guardian of the Hall of Valour, telling her that she was unworthy of entering Sovngarde and that she was to leave, now.

'Are you all right, lass?'

The voice echoed around in her head and she winced. Warily, she opened her eyes. A ginger-haired Nord man was standing over her, looking at her with an expression of concern. Two more figures stood behind him.

'I'm not sure yet,' A'jira said truthfully.

The man burst out laughing. 'Do you two hear this? The lass doesn't know whether she's all right or not!'

The man to his left- he looked like an Imperial- chuckled, while the lithe, slender Dunmer woman to his right smiled slightly.

'I haven't exactly had time to find out yet,' A'jira told them hotly.

The Nord grinned, swallowed his laughter and held out his hand. 'Come on then, lass. Up you get. No time for hanging around. That ugly great flying lizard'll be back soon.'

A'jira nodded and allowed him to pull her to her feet. The three of them regarded her with interest. They were all dressed in the same armour- dark metal that was a mixture between silver, black and grey, with a symbol shaped like a bird reaching out for the moon with its wings engraved on it.

'You're A'jira?' the Dunmer asked, after a few seconds of silence.

'Yes.'

'I thought so. You look just like J'shana.' Her smile widening, she held out her hand and stepped forwards. 'I'm Karliah.'

A'jira stared in shock. 'You're Karliah? Then you gave J'shana my bow!' She saw it lying on the ground by her feet and picked it up.

The elf nodded. 'Yes, as a thank you for everything she did for me.'

'And if you're Karliah, then you must be…' A'jira turned to the other two, trying to remember her ancestor's diary. 'Brynjolf?' she inquired, looking at the red-haired Nord.

'Dead on, lass.'

'And… Gallus?' she added uncertainly, turning to the Imperial.

He nodded. 'I see someone's been doing their research.'

'I… I read about you in J'shana's diary!' A'jira gazed at them in amazement, hardly able to believe that some of her ancestor's best friends were standing in front of her. 'But hold on- you're Nightingales. What are you doing here? Why aren't you in Evergloam?'

The three of them glances at each other. 'Truth to be told, lass, we're supposed to be,' Brynjolf admitted. 'But under the circumstances, Nocturnal decided to allow us to come here until you're mission is complete.'

'We all dreamed the same dream one night,' Karliah explained. 'We dreamed that J'shana spoke to us from Sovngarde, asking us to come here and help her. We spoke to Nocturnal about it, and she said that as J'shana was a fellow Nightingale, we were duty-bound to help her, and the next thing we knew, here we were. Nothing would have kept us away. We all owe too much to J'shana.'

Gallus nodded. 'J'shana is enlisting the help of all her old friends,' he said. 'She's somehow reaching out into every realm of the dead that exists and summoning us to her side. As Dragonborn, she herself was bound to go to Sovngarde, no matter which Divines or Daedric Princes she made promises to. But that didn't stop her from calling into other worlds to seek aid.'

'But why does she need you?'

'Because, as I'm sure you're aware, Alduin is here.' Karliah glanced uneasily at the mountains. 'And he fears you.'

A'jira narrowed her eyes. 'Did I just hear you right? Did you just say that Alduin, the world eater, is afraid of _me?'_

Brynjolf laughed. 'He's as scared of you as you are of him!'

'But… but he's a dragon! How is he afraid of me?'

Karliah folded her arms. 'He knows about your ancestor's prophecy. He knows full well that if there is ever a time for him to be defeated, it's now, and if anyone is ever going to defeat him, it's you.'

A'jira nodded slowly. 'Go on. Why does that mean you have to come?'

'Because Alduin is a coward,' Gallus replied simply. 'He's hiding from you. See those mountains?' A'jira nodded. 'That's where he is. And he'd have a huge advantage if he faced you there, on such difficult terrain. He needs to be drawn out onto the plain in front of Shor's Hall. That was where he was fought last time and that's where he's vulnerable. But we can't make him get out- that's the trouble. And then there's the mist to deal with. But J'shana says she's got a plan.'

A'jira's ears twitched. 'Then you'd better take me to her.'

'Right you are, lass.' Brynjolf dipped his head in agreement. 'It's not far. We were sent to scout out and see if we could find you. See, a few minutes ago there was a sort of earthquake, and J'shana said that meant you were here. So she asked some of us to go out and try and see if we could take you to the Hall. That's where J'shana's waiting for you.'

With the three Nightingales leading the way, it wasn't long before they arrived at a place where the mist thinned and disappeared. A'jira breathed a sigh of relief as they stepped out into the open. Ahead of them stretched a vast canyon, with a bridge made from what looked like the skeleton of a dragon stretching across it. A huge man, half as tall again as A'jira, stood in front of it, blocking the way.

'That's Tsun, lass,' Brynjolf said in a low voice, though A'jira had already guessed. 'He'll probably let you pass once you tell him you're Dragonborn.'

A'jira nodded and took a nervous step forward.

'Halt there!' The enormous man drew his battleaxe, which was just as massive. A'jira wouldn't have been able to lift in in a thousand years. 'What brings you here, living soul, to wander in Sovngarde, Shor's gift to the honoured dead?'

'I'm here to kill Alduin, A'jira replied firmly. Again, she was amazed at how she could be so calm externally when internally she was a wreck.

'Indeed. Since the day he returned to Nirn, many have arrived here, answering the summons of the one who defeated him before, seeking to destroy the World-Eater,' Tsun told her.

'I need to enter Shor's Hall,' A'jira explained. 'My ancestor is waiting for me.'

'You are a soul of the living, not a spirit like the others who answered the Dragonborn's call to war.' Tsun frowned. 'By what right do you claim passage into the Hall of Valour?'

'By right of birth.' A'jira raised her head high. 'I am Dragonborn.'

What might have been a smile flickered across the bridge-watcher's face for a shadow of a moment. 'Five centuries have passed since last one of the dragon blood entered here. Time has come in a circle, and once more a Khajiit with the soul of a dragon comes to Sovngarde to bring about the World-Eater's destruction.'

'So… I can go in?'

Tsun brought his battleaxe into a ready position and narrowed his eyes. 'Only true warriors may enter the Hall of Valour. Until you are judged worthy, you may not pass.'

_Ah. _'Single combat?' A'jira asked.

'Yes.'

Worried, A'jira held up her dagger. 'The only close-quarters weapon I have is this.'

'Here.' Gallus stepped forward and handed her his sword, a sleek and beautiful weapon with the hilt shaped like the same bird designed on his armour. 'Take this.'

'Thank you,' A'jira said uncertainly. She took the sword, returned her dagger to its sheath and turned to face Tsun. She had never used a sword before- the bow was her weapon.*

If there was a signal for the fight to begin, A'jira missed it. Tsun swung his axe in a vicious arc, and if A'jira had not leaped back just in time the blow would have sliced her in two. Fear shot through her. A hit like that could kill her instantly. What happened when you died in the land of the dead? She didn't want to find out.

'Keep your eyes on his sword, not on his face!' Gallus shouted advice from the edge of the battle. 'And stay light on your feet!'

'You can't beat him for strength,' Karliah added. 'So use your greater speed and agility to your advantage!'

Nodding to show she'd heard, A'jira back off a little and faced Tsun again. The massive Nord came towards her, axe raised high. A'jira leaped away from his strike and it plunged into the ground, burying itself at least a finger-length into the earth. While Tsun was exposed as he yanked it out, A'jira lunged in in a swift movement that the Guardian blocked only just in time. He struck again, and A'jira quickly brought up the sword to deflect the blow. She was afraid that the giant battleaxe might shatter the blade as it came down upon it, but whoever had forged the sword had known what they were doing, and it held firm and true. It felt almost like a lightning flash in her paw as she pulled it away and swept it through the air. It was a bit of a wild hit- in fact it was clumsy, which was only to be expected of an archer using a sword for the first time. It was the flat of the blade that hit, rather than the sharp edge, but it struck its target and had the desired effect. It smacked down on Tsun's hand, and he instinctively dropped his weapon. A'jira dropped to the ground and kicked it away.

A slow smile spread over Tsun's face. 'You have fought well, young one. You are a true warrior. Shor's favour has found you, and the Hall of Valour awaits. I proclaim you worthy of entrance.'

He picked up his battleaxe and stood to one side, allowing A'jira to pass. With a sigh of relief, she passed the sword back to Gallus.

'A good fight, lass,' Brynjolf complimented her. 'First time with a sword?'

'Yeah,' A'jira admitted.

'Not bad at all for a first-timer,' Gallus said with a smile. 'There's talent there, if you can find it. But now, let us cross the bridge.'

A'jira looked at the bone bridge. It didn't look at all safe to her, but she guessed that if generations of Nord heroes had crossed it, she could too. Warily, she stepped onto it.

'It's safer than it looks,' Karliah assured her, as if she had heard A'jira's thoughts.

Deciding it would be better to get over the thing as soon as possible, A'jira ran over the bridge, being very careful not to look down. The Nightingales followed her at a distance, keeping a careful eye on the horizon lest Alduin should return.

By the time she arrived on the other side, A'jira had managed to forget about the dizzying drop beneath her. She turned to her companions. 'So, do I just sort of… waltz in?'

Gallus chuckled. 'I think _waltzing _in might look a bit strange. Walking in might be a bit better.'

A'jira nodded. She stepped up to the door and pushed it open.

Instantly fifty heads turned in her direction.

Whispers ran through the assembled people like a breeze stirring the crops growing in a field. 'Is that her?' someone whispered.

'Is must be.'

'By Talos, there she is…'

_Here I am, _A'jira thought.

From her seat at the head of the long table in the centre of the hall, a Khajiit woman with grey and black striped fur and amber eyes got to her feet. But for the fact that she was older, she could have been A'jira's twin sister. A'jira had seen her before, but in neither her statue in Dragonborn barrow nor her dream had she appeared as alive as she did here.

'Welcome, A'jira,' said J'shana. 'Welcome, Dragonborn.'

* * *

It was when he heard the roar that Zaran realised he was in danger. The sound of wingbeats tore through the silence and he looked up in time to see an enormous black shape descending upon him. With a cry, he flung himself aside just in time, and the dragon's jaws clamped down on the air with a clack as it landed. Terror, pure, blind terror, surged through Zaran as the creature turned to face him. He didn't need anyone to tell him. He knew that this was Alduin.

With a snarl, the dragon lashed out with one wing. Zaran reeled backwards, avoiding the blow, but the claws on the end of the wing caught on his robes and wrenched him off balance. He fell to the ground. Alduin laughed as he drew back his head for the killing blow. _My quest ends here, _Zaran thought. _Divines, I am sorry. I know it was A'jira's mission, not mine, but I tried so hard. Please look after her…_

Then suddenly, without warning, two figures appeared from the mist and hurled themselves upon Alduin. One, a Redguard, slashed open the scaly hide with his curved scimitar, sending up a spray of blood. The black dragon howled with agony. The second, an Argonian, made a few lunges with his sword then dashed over to where Zaran lay on the grass and held out a hand. Zaran took it and the Argonian pulled him to his feet. Faced with the three of them, Alduin seemed to lose his taste for the battle. He backed off a little way, snapping with his teeth and sending a jet of flame at the Redguard. The man soaked it up without flinching and swung his blade, opening up a cut on Alduin's muzzle. Hissing with fury, the dragon took to the air and swerved away, heading towards the mountains. '_Pahlok joorre! _Arrogant mortals! If I were not saving my strength for the final battle you would all be _dilon,_' he roared, then the mist swallowed him up.

Panting, Zaran gave his rescuers a weak smile. 'Thank you.'

'Always a pleasure, marsh-friend,' the Argonian replied, sheathing his sword.

The Redguard spat on the ground. 'Pleasure? Ha! I've seen enough of that black worm in this place to last me a lifetime.'

The Argonian rolled his eyes and offered his hand to Zaran, who shook it. 'I am Veezara, and this is Nazir,' he said, gesturing first to himself and then to his companion.

'Ours is to smile at your passing, friends,' Zaran told them. 'They call me Zaran-Ra.'

Nazir raised his eyebrows a fraction, while Veezara looked surprised. 'Zaran-Ra? The friend of the Dragonborn?'

'Yes.'

'Then she is here?' Veezara's voice was urgent and eager. 'Was J'shana right? The Dragonborn, is she here?'

Zaran couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at how the Argonian spoke his friend's name with awe and wonder. 'Yes, she's here.'

Veezara and Nazir exchanged a look of mingled relief and triumph. 'Finally!' Nazir grunted. 'Maybe we'll be able to get out of this place at last.'

'Get out?' Zaran said in confusion. 'What do you mean?'

'It is a long story, marsh-friend,' Veezara said. 'We had better explain on the way there.'

'Where's 'there?''

'Shor's Hall, also known as the Hall of Valour.' Nazir started walking into the mist, and Zaran hurried to keep up with him. 'J'shana's called all her friends… well, 'acquaintances' might be a better word in my case, to help your feline friend fight Alduin.'

'I thought A'jira had to face Alduin alone,' Zaran said, confused.

'She does.'

'Then why-?'

'No more talking. We cannot tell whether Alduin will be back. When we reach the Hall of Valour, J'shana will explain,' Veezara hissed, looking anxiously around.

Zaran swallowed. He didn't want to think about what might be lurking in this fog. He cast an anxious glance over his shoulder and followed the others.

* * *

J'shana left her seat and walked around the table. A'jira extended her paw, and J'shana took it and clasped it warmly. 'It's wonderful to finally meet you in the flesh,' her ancestor said, smiling widely. 'You've done so well.'

'Thank you,' A'jira said shyly. 'I couldn't have made it this far without your help.'

'Oh, I'm sure you could. You have the heart and spirit of a dragon.'

'So this is her, is it?' A muscular Nord wearing a helmet that appeared to be made from the head of a bear squinted suspiciously at her. 'Hm. I thought she'd be… you know. Taller.'

'Galmar,' said a second Nord warningly, shooting him a look.

'Well, come on, Ulfric, don't say you didn't expect her to be a bit bigger.'

Galmar wasn't alone- several people were giving A'jira doubtful looks, and she couldn't blame them. If she'd been told a skinny Khajiit teenager was all that stood in the way of her and certain death, she'd be worried too.

'Size is no inherent virtue,' J'shana proclaimed. 'It is what is within that counts.'

'Good. She's here.' Another Nord, a woman this time, got to her feet. 'Now we're fighting, right?'

'Legate, I don't want to have to say it again. _Sit down,' _J'shana hissed.

'Well, that is why I'm here,' A'jira admitted. 'I mean, defeating Alduin and all that.'

J'shana nodded 'Yes, we know. But you have travelled far and fought hard this day. Rest for now, and tomorrow, we go to war.'

'_War.' _The word was repeated in whispers that spread around the entire hall.

J'shana made a single, graceful leap that carried her up onto the table top. 'Tomorrow is the day when everything changes!' she roared. 'Tomorrow, the final battle will take place, a fight in the world of the dead that will decide the fates of the living! Tomorrow, the building of a new Skyrim begins! The building of a new Tamriel! The building of a new Nirn!'

Cheers burst forth from the crowd. J'shana waited until they had fallen silent before she continued. 'Many of you have travelled far to come here. We have fought with all our strength to keep the World-Eater at bay up 'till now. But now we need hide no longer. The Dragonborn has come!'

More cheers, even more enthusiastic than before. 'Tonight is the calm before the storm breaks. Tonight we will rest and build up our strength for what is to come. But tomorrow, we will feast and drink and sing, knowing that the land we love is safe!'

A'jira stood there and let the sounds wash over her. She could hardly believe that all these people were relying on her to save them. What if she failed? Alduin would have killed her before if Karliah, Brynjolf and Gallus hadn't arrived in time. What if she was defeated just as easily when it came to the final confrontation?

And then she remembered. She had a weapon. _Wahl Zu Dovah. _She did not yet know what it meant or did, but she had felt its power when she learned it in Dragonborn Barrow and knew that it was more than enough to defeat Alduin.

J'shana jumped down from the table and hissed into A'jira's ear. 'Say something.'

'What?'

'You're leading them into battle tomorrow. They'll be expecting you to make some kind of speech.'

'Um. Sure.' A'jira was pretty certain that if she tried jumping onto the table like J'shana she'd fall flat on her face, so instead she climbed onto an empty chair and hopped onto the table from there. For a moment, confronted with the fifty faces looking up at her- some eager, some full of awe, some doubtful, some downright unimpressed- she felt her tongue tie itself in a knot. What could she say? J'shana clearly intended there to be some kind of fight tomorrow. These people might die because A'jira asked them to fight.

Then she remembered facing the crowd in Solitude. They, too, had had their doubts, and they, too, had eventually believed her. She had made that crowd believe in her. She could make this one believe in her too.

'My friends,' she said, and the few people who had been whispering amongst themselves fell silent. 'I do not know what happened to create such evil in our beautiful world. I do not know how Alduin came into being. I do not know why he chose to try and turn our land from a place of peace and plenty into one and fear, fire, blood, and death. All I know is that tomorrow, it will end. The reign of tyranny he seeks to bestow upon Skyrim will be over before it can begin.'

Sensing that she had the full attention of her audience, A'jira began to get into her stride. 'But listen to me, my friends- even now, after I have seen him face to face and begun to understand that he is the true meaning of evil- I cannot find it in my heart to hate him. In fact, I pity him. What else but pity can I have for a creature that has never known compassion, kindness or love? It is our understanding of these things that sets us apart from those who, like Alduin, can find no greater pleasure in life than causing suffering to others. And that is why we must _fight!'_

There was dead silence in the hall, but for the sound of her voice. 'We _must _fight to rid the world of such evil! It is our duty. Because there are people down there in Skyrim, in Tamriel, on all of Nirn, whose lives and futures depend on the outcome of tomorrow's conflict! If the battle is lost, there are children down there who will never grow up, or if they do, it will be in a land governed by misery and death, under the World-Eater's shadow. There are warriors who, at this very moment, are sacrificing their blood and their lives to withstand the onslaught of the followers of Alduin, who have risen again to try and take our homeland! There are dragons that follow the way of peace who have been brutally murdered and had their souls torn from their bodies and trapped within the minds of other dragons, dragons that are under Alduin's command, in order to return these evil creatures to life. And there is a land, a beautiful land, the land we know as Skyrim, which, if we should fail, will have its majestic mountains razed to the ground, its beautiful forests burned to ashes, its sparkling rivers dried up and its rolling plains torn apart. And we cannot let that happen! For though we may come from all corners of Tamriel- from the mountains and plateaus of Skyrim and High Rock, from the lush forests of Cyrodiil, Black Marsh and Valenwood, from the golden sands of Hammerfell and Elsweyr, from the highlands and grasslands of Morrowind and from the Summerset Isles over the sea- Skyrim is our _home!'_

The hall erupted with a roar of agreement, accompanied by the assembled people waving their weapons above their heads, punching the air with their fists, and several of those who were seated leaping to their feet. A'jira had been intending to wait for silence before continuing, but it was clear that the listeners had been fired up so strongly that they were not about to calm down. J'shana shook her head despairingly and breathed in deeply. Her Voice tore through the air. _'Zun HAAL VIIK!'_

There was a loud clattering and clanging as the Shout ripped the weapons from the hands of the ecstatic audience, causing them to instantly cease their yelling as they fumbled around on the floor to pick them up. A'jira swallowed her laughter as she waited for the last ones to pick up their arms and turn back to her. 'And that is why I want to thank you. For only a few days ago I had no knowledge of my destiny. I am nothing but a Khajiit with a fate that was thrust upon me as suddenly as the changing of the wind. You have no need to follow me, and I have done nothing to deserve your allegiance. Yet here you are, pledging your weapons and your lives to me. I cannot thank you enough for that. For without the belief that you have shown in me, I could never have found belief in myself. If I started to name all the people who made it possible for me to be here, I would never finish. J'shana, Derkeethus, Paarthurnax, Odahviing, Laaskriiah- _Zaran!'_

At the shocked exclamation that was the last word, every head turned to follow the direction of her stunned gaze, settling on the open door of the hall. For there he stood, framed in the doorway with a smile on his face, fulfilling his pledge to stay by the side of the one he loved.

'I followed you,' he said softly, answering the question that had just been about to form on A'jira's tongue. 'I swore I would go with you no matter where your quest might lead you, be it to the Throat of the World or the depths of Oblivion. When I saw you disappear into that portal, I knew that you were jumping into the jaws of death. I could not have stayed behind in safety and let you face such danger alone.'

Her feet making only the gentlest of noises on the wooden table, A'jira crossed it in three strides and jumped down to meet him. 'You should have stayed. I… I felt better about leaving you when I reminded myself that you would be safe.' She closed her eyes and shook her head. When she opened them, they were bright and warm, and a smile was beginning to play over her face. 'But I'm glad you're here.'

He reached out his arms and pulled her gently towards him, and there they were in each other's embrace again, her face resting on his shoulder and his hand tenderly stroking the silky fur on her head.

A'jira felt that warm glow that she always seemed to feel in these moments she shared with Zaran, rising inside her and filling her up with certainty and faith. Her friend- but that was hardly the word to describe him anymore, for he was so, so much more than a friend- nodded to her, and she forced herself to turn away from him and face the crowd again.

All that she said were six words, and somehow they were more than enough.

'People of Skyrim. Tomorrow we fight.'

* * *

***I know you can fight Tsun using any weapon you like, but I liked the idea of a proper single combat. Hope nobody minds.**

* * *

**Again, reviews much appreciated, and if you've got a question PM me. **


	20. The One They Fear

**This, ladies and gentlemen, is the proverbial 'it.' Thank you to everyone who's stuck with A'jira so far, and is still sticking with her as she begins her final battle…**

* * *

Chapter Twenty- The One They Fear

Date: 14th of Sun's Height

Location: Hall of Valour

Life is something you take for granted. You don't often think about where it came from, or how it was created, or what makes it be taken away. It's just something that's there, in every plant and animal that grows, walks, crawls swims or flies on the planet where you live. But sometimes, just sometimes, reality catches up with you. As death approaches you, staring you right in the face, that's when you realise just how precious life is, how much of a gift was bestowed upon you when whoever or whatever created you gave it to you. Because life is such a fragile thing. An arrow shot from a bow, a blade driven into your heart, a spell that strikes you, a dagger drawn across your throat… all can snatch your life away in a single second, snuff it out like a candle. How wonderful life is. How easily it can be taken away.

That was what was running through A'jira's mind as she sat at the table in the Hall of Valour, bow resting on the table in front of her, the heroes of Sovngarde and the visitors from the other realms lying on chairs, on the table or on the floor around her, lost in the peaceful land of dreams. She had slept, for a short while, but all she could dream about was Alduin, swooping down upon her with flames leaping from his maw. And once she was awake, there was no sleeping again. Quite apart from the fact that Galmar Stone-Fist was snoring loud enough to wake the dead- somewhat ironic, given where she was, A'jira thought- she was afraid to close her eyes in case the nightmares returned. So she sat in silence, reflecting on her life and how short it had been and how easily it might be over before the end of the day.

It was hard to believe that it had all begun with those three words she had spoken back in Dragonsreach, what seemed like a hundred years ago. In her mind's eye she saw herself raise her head and say them. _'I'll do it.' _For the first time she allowed herself to wonder what might have become of her had she refused Faenlor's offer. She would have spent a day or two in jail. Then she'd have been thrown back out into a harsh and hostile world, just another homeless, penniless wanderer who nobody cared about. She would never have gone into Ulfgard. She would never have discovered that she was Dragonborn. She would never have discovered that her ancestor had also been Dragonborn. Worst of all, maybe, she would never have met Zaran. That seemed like a pitiable fate.

And J'shana would have been forgotten forever. The good deeds she had done, the battles she had fought, the sacrifices she had made… all lost to the past through the greed of mortals. A'jira bit her lip. She couldn't stand the thought of J'shana, the ancestor who had done so much for Skyrim and for her… what was it Paarthurnax had said? _Vodahmin. _Unremembered.

But maybe there was no way she could have refused that offer. Maybe she was bound to have accepted by something far, far more powerful than her free will. And even if she had, she was certain that somehow, her destiny would still have caught up with her. The very purpose of her birth had been to save Skyrim and kill Alduin. Or to die in the attempt.

Was she really governed by fate? Had no action she had ever made in her life been the result of her own decisions? The deaths of her parents, the fatal mission into Ulfgard, the slaying of her first dragon, her meeting with Zaran… had something else, something mysterious and powerful, some destiny decided the day time began, been responsible for all of that? The thoughts running through her head, was she fated to think them? The outcome of today's battle, was that already written in the stars?

One thing was for sure. She was here now. And there was no turning back.

'Trouble sleeping?'

A'jira turned her head to see J'shana standing behind her, a sympathetic smile on her face. Her ancestor pulled out a chair and sat down, sighing as she placed her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her paws.

A'jira nodded at her. 'Yeah. Every time I closed my eyes, I got visions of Alduin pouncing on me.'

J'shana flicked her tail. 'I know what you mean. The night before I fought him, I could hardly sleep for nightmares.'

'J'shana…' A'jira knew she couldn't repeat what she was about to say to anyone else, not even Zaran. 'J'shana, I'm scared that I'm going to lose.' She sounded about five years old but there was no denying the truth. 'I still don't know what that Shout you made does and I know it's powerful but I'm not sure it's going to be enough. I'm not sure that _I'm _going to be enough. These people…' She waved her hand around the hall, indicating the slumbering warriors. 'They believe that I can defeat Alduin, and I suppose they're right. But whether I _will_ defeat him is a different matter.'

A sad smile spread across J'shana's face. 'I understand. I felt the same way. When I saw Alduin drop from the sky the day of that final battle… I felt like the end of the world had come. I was certain that I was going to die. And I guess it's worse for you, because you're facing him alone.'

A'jira felt a lump in her throat. 'I still don't understand why I have to do it by myself.'

J'shana shook her head. 'Nor do any of us. But Arngeir- he's my mentor from the Greybeards- he dreamt it one night. He saw you standing facing Alduin, in exactly the same place where he was fought by me and the heroes of old. There were other warriors standing all around, people from the Thieves' Guild, the Companions, the College of Winterhold and even the Dark Brotherhood, but none of them was helping, just watching. And he heard a voice speaking in Draconic, in the language of the dragons. It said, 'this is how it must be.''

'But why?' A'jira couldn't fight the feeling that she was acting like a spoiled child, but J'shana seemed to understand.

'A'jira,' she murmured, placing an arm around her descendant's shoulder, 'if we understood the ways of the Gods, we would be Gods ourselves.'

A'jira nodded. There was no arguing with J'shana's calm wisdom.

'Remember,' her ancestor added, 'it's good that you are afraid. I would be worried if you were not. For without fear, how can there be courage?'

A'jira smiled as she remembered Faenlor's leaf-green eyes burning into hers.

'_'Were you scared fighting those Draugr?'_

'_Yes.'_

_'Did it stop you?'_

_'I guess not.'_

_'Then that was true courage. There's a difference between fearlessness and courage, A'jira, and very few people realise it. Fearlessness is the absence of fear. Courage is facing up to your fears. Fearlessness is foolish. Courage is a virtue that can move nations to follow your commands.'_

'Come. Our friends have slept for long enough. And the longer we put off this battle, the longer Skyrim remains in danger.' J'shana rose to her feet and sucked in air. _'Fus RO DAH!'_

Sleepy eyes flickered open around the hall as the Shout ripped them from their slumber. People slowly began to rise to their feet. A'jira watched their faces as the realisation dawned on them one by one. _This is it, _their faces said. _We're fighting. Today. And if we fail, the world dies._

It was all right for them. It was A'jira the world was depending upon.

J'shana jumped onto the table again and beckoned for A'jira to do the same. The two Dragonborns waited until everyone was on their feet and facing them. Then J'shana stepped forward and called out to them, her voice echoing around the hall.

'You all know why we are here and what we are about to do. Alduin, the world-eater, is lurking within the mist that surrounds us. He thinks us easy prey. He thinks the whole world easy prey. There is but one he fears, and she is standing here beside me.'

A'jira felt her fur begin to prickle with embarrassment. She looked at the floor, then realised these people were not looking for a leader who cowered away from her duty and her destiny. She swallowed her fear and raised her head high.

'Alduin is strong, but he is a fool to think that he can hide forever. We go now to fight him, to rid our home of the evil that faces it. And if some of us must give our lives to achieve it, then it will have been worth it, for the people of Tamriel will be free!'

Weapons were drawn from their sheaths and waved in the air. Blades flashed in the torchlight. A'jira felt pride bubble up inside her and when she opened her mouth, words gushed out unbidden. 'I can't guarantee that we will win this battle,' she proclaimed. 'But what I can assure you of is that I will fight until all my arrows are gone, my bow is broken, my knife shattered and my talons blunt to vanquish the evil that threatens us. For something I have come to realise since I discovered who I am is that being Dragonborn is nothing to do with killing dragons. It is about defending those who cannot defend themselves, protecting Tamriel and its people against all injustice and evil. That is the duty that was bestowed upon me by Akatosh long before I was born, and I would rather die than fail in it. Alduin is right to fear me. For I will gladly give my life to defeat him. But I promise you, I will not let him overcome me, for until he lies dead, no man, elf or beast can hope to be free. That is my destiny, and I will see it fulfilled- for Skyrim, for Tamriel, and for all of Nirn!'

Roars of delight greeted her words. The two Khajiit leaped down from the table and lead the way over to the doors. Zaran and Derkeethus pushed through the crowd to stand beside them, and together they headed the band of warriors as they made their way out of the hall, over the bridge and onto the field of battle.

* * *

I am awakened from sleep by the sound of voices. Many voices. Mortal voices. With a growl, I make my way to the top of my crag and look down. For once, the mists I have created are more of a hindrance that a help. Though they shield me from my enemies, they also hide them from me. Whatever they are doing, I cannot see it. I muse over whether it would be worth my time to use a Clear Skies shot, to blow away this mist and see what the _joorre _are up to. But I decide against it. It means they would be seen to me, but that I would also be seen to them. And I cannot risk that. If the Dovahkiin is down there…

I woke up this dawn with a feeling of dread I cannot explain. I know in my heart that this is the day of the final _grah_, the final battle. Today the _Dovahkiin _and I will fight, and one of us will die.

And suddenly I wonder whether it will be me.

_Nid! _How can such a thought cross my mind? I am more than a match for the _Dovahkiin. _She is but a _joor, _a _kaaz! _How could she hope to defeat Alduin, the World-Eater, mightiest of any to ever set foot on this world? To be sure, her ancestor defeated me, but things have changed now. The _Dovahkiin _of before had a weapon- the Dragonrend Shout. The cat fool who faces me now does not. And I have learned from my errors. This time I will not let them draw me out into the open. That would be my _dinok. _No, I will stay here on this _strunmah _until the time is nigh. Then I will strike!

And when Alduin strikes, the world dies.

* * *

'All right, everyone. Keep your voices down. I don't want any shouting or cheering. Alduin is out there watching us and we have one chance and one chance only to defeat him.'

A'jira was standing beside J'shana, listening to her ancestor as she outlined the battle plan. The rest of their little army was watching them, weapons readied and eyes narrowed. The mists still hung about them, but for once they were a blessing instead of a curse. This time they protected them from Alduin, instead of putting them in danger.

'A lot of you are wondering why I needed so many of you,' J'shana was saying. 'Now the time has come for me to explain. You all know the situation. Alduin is hiding there.' She pointed at the cliff high above. 'I expect he's trying to spy on us right now, but he won't be able to hear us and these mists mean he can't see us. The problem, as you know, is that A'jira can't fight him on the mountains. The terrain will be too difficult and Alduin will have a huge advantage. He has to be fought here, right here, in the open. That leaves two problems. One, how do we get him down from the mountains? And two, if we do flush him out from where he's lurking, how do we stop him from flying directly over our heads and just going to a different place to hide? This, my friends, is where you come in.'

Excited glances were exchanged between friends as J'shana went on. 'First, I need a small group of people to drive Alduin out from the cliffs. This part of the plan is going to be tricky, but I know that we can pull it off if we work together. All it will need is a small group of people who know how to fight and hide at the same time. These people will sneak around the cliff, using the fog as cover, creep up on Alduin and launch an attack. The aim is not, of course, to kill him, but to disorientate him. All it will need is about seven or eight people. If they do it right, attacking, then hiding in the shadows and attacking again, it'll make it look like he's being attacked by a small army. I want lots of noise- battle cries and everything. The more confused he is, the better. He won't know how many he's facing or how well armed they are, or anything. So he'll have three options. He could fight, but he won't risk that when he doesn't know what he's up against. He could try flying that way-' J'shana pointed back over the mountains behind them, '-but he won't be able to because, if the attack is executed correctly, that way will be blocked by his attackers. So he'll have only one choice- to leave the mountains and come out onto the plains.'

J'shana folded her arms. 'Now, the rest of you will be waiting here. I need you spread out and ready to fight. While the stealth fighters are ambushing Alduin up on the cliff, I'll need the help of everyone who knows the Clear Skies shout to get rid of this mist. Alduin will come down from the mountain and see us waiting for him. And we'll be ready. We'll be blocking his way. He won't be able to get past us- there are too many. I hope I can rely on you lot from the College, and those of you with bows, to stop him from flying right over us?'

The reply was a volley of spells and arrows launched into the sky. 'Good,' J'shana said, sounding satisfied. 'Ok, so, I'd say we need about seven people for the stealth attack. People who know how to hide, and fight without being seen. People who can turn the shadows to their advantage. People who can fight like there's three of them instead of one. Any volunteers?'

A dozen hands shot up. J'shana took her time selecting, carefully picking out a few of the most capable warriors from the throng of people before her. 'Aela. J'zargo. Veezara and Gabriella. Tonilia. And Karliah, you'll be leading the attack.' The elected people nodded and stepped out of the main group, standing on one side. J'shana counted them and frowned, surveying the fighters she had chosen. 'And one more…' She hesitated, looking at the assembled people.

'I'll go,' declared a quiet voice, and Zaran stepped forward to stand beside the others.

'Zaran, no!' The words burst from A'jira's throat before she could pull them back. 'No, you can't! It's too dangerous!'

The young Argonian faced her with a sad smile. 'What you are going to do is more dangerous still. Please, A'jira. If I cannot fight alongside you I must at least do this for you. How can I shy away from danger when you fight death itself alone?'

'But…' A'jira felt like her heart was about to be torn in two.

J'shana rested her hand on A'jira's shoulder. 'It is his choice to make,' she murmured.

A'jira stared hopelessly at the friend she had come to love. She knew she could not stop him from going. Very slowly, she nodded. 'Make sure you come back to me, Zaran,' she whispered, throat too tight to say anything else.

His smile lost its sadness. 'Of course.'

A roar sounded from above them, too far away for them to make out the words. But even without them, it could not have been clearer that it was a challenge.

'There's no time to lose.' J'shana drew her bow. 'Come, friends! The battle is upon us, the battle that should have ended five hundred years ago. Now is the time, the time to fight for our land and people, the time to make a new world, the time to make Alduin regret every brave soul who has ever died because of him!'

* * *

The fog that had nearly been responsible for Zaran's death was now his shield and his friend. As he and the other warriors chosen for the stealth attack moved towards the base of the mountain, he was well aware that only the swirling white clouds that pressed in on him from all sides stopped Alduin from seeing them and swooping down on them before they could take another step. His companions appeared to realise it too- they were making every footstep as silent as possible, and casting nervous glances over their shoulders every few paces.

As they reached the foot of the mountain, the mist thinned. It was clear enough for them to see the slope that stretched in front of them, covered in rocks and boulders. It seemed impossible to Zaran that they would make it up without being found. Just one misplaced step, one stone knocked out of place, a single noise that alerted the evil awaiting them at the top of the rise, and they were all condemned to death.

Karliah, at the head of their group, held up a hand as she reached the place where the ground began to swerve upwards, signalling for them to stop. None of them dared speak now. In the stillness and silence, it seemed as if the tiniest sound would betray them. The Dunmer woman squinted through the mist, and her indigo eyes narrowed. Wordlessly, she pointed to a hunched shape at the top of the slope. Zaran couldn't stop a small hiss from escaping him as he followed the direction of her finger and realised that what he had taken for an oddly shaped boulder was in fact the dark, shadowy form of a dragon, crouching at the edge of the cliff and peering down onto the plains below. _Alduin, _he thought. _The day of your doom has come._

To his left, he saw J'zargo, the Khajiit mage from the College of Winterhold, cast a spell in his right hand that instantly silenced the sound of his footsteps, then another in his left that made him blink out of sight. _I should have thought of that, _Zaran thought irritably, and did the same. What with his fellows being experts in the art of stealth, with the possible exception of J'zargo, he was at a natural disadvantage here, and his magic would have to make up for it.

The seven of them began to inch forward. At one point, Tonilia, a Redguard woman from the Thieves' Guild, slipped on a wet rock and nearly went tumbling back down the slope, but Aela, next to her, flashed out a hand and caught her just in time. Tonilia weakly nodded her thanks and Aela acknowledged her with a brief dip of her head. Zaran's heart, which had frozen with fear, started beating again, and they continued forward.

After they were three-quarters of the way up, Zaran's magicka was nearly fully depleted, so he was glad when Karliah held her hand up again for them to stop. Alduin, still intent on the events taking place below him- probably he was trying to see through the fog and find out what A'jira and J'shana were up to- hadn't noticed them yet. 'Nocturnal must be watching over us,' Zaran heard Karliah whisper, very, very softly. The elf made a gesture with her hands, as if parting something invisible. The meaning was clear. _Spread out. _

Nodding, the rest of them hastened to obey, stationing themselves across the length of the slope. Zaran took up a place between Gabriella from the Dark Brotherhood, who was on the far left, and Tonilia. Looking around him, the young mage realised how clever J'shana's plan was. With the fog and the large boulders for cover, Alduin would never be able to work out how many people were attacking him. What was more, the slope narrowed as it reached to top, meaning that he and the others could move up in a line towards the dragon, leaving him no escape other than towards the fighters waiting for him below. As Veezara stepped into position on the right side of the group, a shiver ran through Zaran. Everything was ready. Any moment now, it would begin.

Without making even the tiniest sound, not even rustling the arrows in her quiver, Karliah drew out a feathered shaft and nocked it to her bow. She glanced around at her small band, raising one eyebrow slightly. Again, though no words were spoken, the message was instantly conveyed. _Ready?_

Six heads nodded in trepidation.

Karliah turned back to Alduin. Zaran watched as she drew back her bowstring and took aim, eyes narrowing and breathing slowing in a way that was familiar to him, after all the times he'd watched A'jira do the same thing. The Dark Elf paused for a heartbeat, then released the arrow and shouted at the top of her voice.

'Nocturnal, guide my hand!'

Nocturnal must have been listening, for the arrow struck its intended target perfectly, burying itself in Alduin's rear end, just above the base of his tail. It was a shallow wound, not particularly painful, but the dragon was enraged. His head snapped around as he let out an agonised roar that shook the crag, scarlet eyes gleaming with fury as he searched desperately for his attackers. Zaran saw J'zargo vanish from sight, saw arrows quivering on the bows of Aela, Gabriella and Karliah, saw Veezara and Tonilia dart into the shadows with their swords at the ready. Roars split the air, accompanied by the battle cries of Alduin's attackers.

'You think I'm afraid of you?'

'Hail Sithis!'

'The shadows will be your undoing!'

'For Skyrim!'

With the battle-blood beginning to course through his veins, Zaran charged up his spells and prepared to fire.

The battle had begun.

* * *

A'jira watched with her heart in her mouth as the chosen seven slipped away into the mist. Around her, the small army that she and J'shana commanded were moving fast, forming a large horseshoe shape, circling around the base of the cliff. The mages and archers stood a little way behind, ready to stop Alduin from flying over them with their long-range attacks. A'jira and her ancestor stood in the front of the centre of the horseshoe, giving them a full view of the place where the battle would take place.

'Will they be all right?' A'jira couldn't bear the thought of Zaran, vulnerable and unprotected in the mist, Alduin hovering above him, waiting to strike.

J'shana laughed. 'Oh, they'll be fine. I chose that lot for a reason, you know. Take Aela. She can hit a butterfly on the wing. I once saw her fire an arrow at a bandit that went right through his leg and pinned him to his horse. J'zargo might be a bit headstrong, but he's a genius with magic. He invented a flame cloak spell that killed twenty Draugr in less than ten seconds. Nearly killed me, too, but still… Veezara's a Shadowscale, he was trained as an assassin since the day of his hatching. And Karliah, she had half of Skyrim hunting her down for twenty five years and she was never found. I've seen her take out a falmer with a single shot at a distance of forty metres. If anyone can look after themselves, it's them.'

A'jira scuffed the ground with her boot. J'shana saw her face and gave her a sympathetic look. 'It's Zaran you're worried about, isn't it?'

A'jira nodded. 'I know it's unfair of me to try and stop him, and I know that he can fight his own battles, but still…'

J'shana nodded understandingly. 'I know. I would, and do, feel the same way about Derkeethus. Whenever he's in danger, my heart stops for a second. I care about him more than anything else in the world.' She let out a long sigh. 'We're fortunate, you know. You have Zaran and I have Keeth. Not everyone is so lucky.'

A'jira nodded again, more vigorously. 'You can say that again. The Divines knew what they were doing when they brought us together.' She smiled. Thinking of Zaran was the one and only thing that could stop her from dwelling on what was to come. She could feel her heart pounding against her ribs, like a bard playing a drum, and her breath was beginning to come in short, shallow gasps. Fear was beginning to utterly consume her. Talos above, she was so scared. It was partly that she was afraid of dying. She wasn't ashamed to admit that. Wouldn't anyone be? But mostly, her fear was for the others. For Zaran, for J'shana and Derkeethus, for Brynjolf, Gallus, Karliah and their Guild, Astrid and her Brotherhood, Kodlak and the Companions, Savos Aren and the College. And for all the people of her beloved Skyrim. For all the people who were depending on her victory. If she failed, if she died here, then so would all of Tamriel, maybe even all of Nirn. The fates of millions were resting on her shoulders and oh, by the Nine, she was so, so frightened.

Oh, Talos, what if she failed?

She could not fail.

The lives of too many depended upon it.

A'jira sucked in air and swallowed hard. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, deeply as she could, filling her lungs with air. Her breathing slowed. _Calm yourself, _she told herself firmly. _Courage. Have courage. You were born for this. You have no choice, A'jira, no choice at all. The time has come to face him. So face him. Face him, without fear, and without hate. _

She opened her eyes as someone pushed through the crowd to talk to them. 'This is everyone, Dragonborn,' came a voice. She wasn't sure who he was addressing, her or J'shana.

'Thank you, Ulfric.' J'shana dipped her head to the burly Nord, who nodded back and stepped back to join a collection of people standing separate to the main group, mostly Nords with long grey robes and long grey beards. _The Greybeards, _A'jira thought. There were also a few people who looked like ancient Nord heroes.

Three of the old men walked forward, until they stood in front of A'jira. _'Lok,' _whispered one, and a group of glowing lines- a word in dragon language- appeared on the ground.

'_Vah,' _breathed another, and a second word joined the first.

'_Koor,' _intoned the third, and the final word burned itself into the grass.

'It's the Clear Skies Shout,' J'shana explained. 'We need to clear away this mist, and we'll need the help of everyone who knows the Voice.'

A'jira nodded and stepped up to each word in turn, letting the ancient knowledge flow through her mind. It seemed gentler than the other Shouts she had learned, fresh and clear in comparison to the fierce rage of Fire Breath or the unleashed power of Unrelenting Force.

'When we hear the sounds of battle from the mountains,' J'shana called, 'we must join our Voices together. We will vanquish this mist and then Alduin will have nowhere to hide.'

A'jira looked back to the mountain, and her ears went flat against her head. It couldn't be much longer before it all began.

Any moment now. Any moment now. Any moment now.

And then a furious roar, full of outrage and pain, split the air, and a flash of fire ripped through the clouds-

'NOW!' J'shana roared, and A'jira raised her Voice to bellow the three words along with the others.

'_Lok VAH KOOR!'_

The air itself yielded before the power of the combined Voices. The Shout ripped through the sky like a tempest, carrying the fog in its wake, revealing a star filled sky that was just beginning to lighten with the first rays of sun.

There was no going back now. It had begun.

* * *

My fire licks across the grass, but the flames that have claimed the lives of so many fall uselessly upon the rocks and die. I whip my tail from side to side and feel it collide with something, but when I turn around there is nobody there. I see a _jel_ rush towards me, sword glinting in the light that is falling upon me now that my mists are gone, but no sooner have I lunged at him with my teeth bared, he is vanished.

An arrow strikes my paw. I howl with fury and pain. In the shadows and the last traces of the fog I cannot see how many attack me. I know what they intend. They wish to drive me from this _strunmah _so that I have no choice but to face the _Dovahkiin._

I take to the air and try to fly back down the slope, away from where my enemies wait for me in the plains below the cliff, but I have not made three strokes with my wings before I see three _joorre _leap out from the darkness and aim their bows at me. I am forced to brake in mid-air and change direction, aiming for the side of the crag, but the _jel _who is the _fahdon _of the _Dovahkiin _in in my path, launching fire from his hand. I dive downwards to avoid it. How dare he use my own element against me? Fire is for the _dov! _

I realise I am being forced to retreat. No matter how hard I try to push past, there is always a mortal in my way if I go anywhere but up. But I cannot go there, it will be my death! If I am forced over the edge of the cliff, then the _Dovahkiin _lies in wait for me, and the sense of danger I have had since my awakening will not leave.

I have no choice. I must fight her.

'_Pahlok joorre!' _I bellow, and launch myself from the edge of the crag. For a moment I feel a burst of hope- maybe I can fly over the _joorre _and find safety elsewhere- but there is a small army lying in wait for me below, and the arrows and spells that cut the air leave me in no doubt that if I tried to fly over their heads my wings would be torn to pieces by arrows and magic. I must face the _Dovahkiin _alone, for that is the fate that destiny has written out for her and I, but there is nothing to prevent the _joorre _from injuring me before the battle.

I am forced to land, falling with a thud on the grass. Instantly I am surrounded by a wall of blades, faces filled with hatred and loathing staring into my eyes without fear. This is not right. These mortals should be filled with _maar _and running at the sight of me, not hemming me in with their weapons and looking me in the eye! How dare they look into the eyes of the World-Eater? I drown them in flame, I roar until the sky itself is trembling, I lash at them with tooth, talon and tail, but they hold firm, pushing me back, back, ever back, until I am pressed up against the cliff.

Only when my back is forced up against it do they suddenly draw back.

A circle opens up around me. As the _joorre _step backwards, forming a ring around the base of the cliff, a single figure is left standing alone on the grass, facing me.

Amber meets red, as the _Dovahkiin _looks into my eyes, staring right into my soul.

And I know that it is over. The hiding, the lurking in the shadows. The time is now, the day is here.

No choice.

The time has come.

It is to the death.

Her death.

* * *

It was strange. Now that the moment had come, now that it was just her and Alduin with nobody to help her, now that A'jira had real reason to be afraid, she was not. She did not feel the slightest trace of fright. All her terror had vanished as she looked into Alduin's eyes. She felt strangely free. The moment that she had been born for had finally arrived, and now that there was no turning back, there was no place for fear. It was life or death, that simple, and terror had no place there, not any more.

She was acutely aware of the others standing in a circle around her, but they seemed very far away. It was almost as if the fog had returned, hiding them from view. The world had shrunk to the size of the circle formed by the others and the cliff, the circle that contained Alduin and her. That was the world. Her and the black dragon. Each of them had been created for the sake of this single moment, and what happened next would shape the future of all Nirn for millennia to come.

She heard footsteps behind her, and turned to see Zaran sprinting through the throng towards her. He must have sprinted all the way there from the cliff the moment he had seen Alduin fly over the edge of the crag to face her. He was always one step behind her, A'jira thought, right up until the very end. His loyalty and faith gave her strength.

It seemed like a thousand years and yet only a few heartbeats before he had broken through the circle and was standing by her side. She looked at Zaran and from the pang in his emerald eyes she realised that he knew that this was it. He could follow her no further. A'jira had to do this alone.

Wordlessly, he pulled her into his embrace. He stroked her head with his hand as she sobbed into his chest, the pain of parting almost tearing them both in two.

'I love you, Zaran.' A'jira's words were heard by his ears only.

'I love you too.' His breath was warm and comforting against her face. 'And I know that you can do this, A'jira. I know you can.'

They stepped apart, and amber met green. Maybe for the last time.

Neither of them spoke any more. Nothing could be said or needed to be said.

To A'jira, it felt like the world was ending as she turned her back on Zaran, J'shana, Derkeethus, and all of the others, and turned back to the hulking figure that crouched at the base of the cliff.

But she felt no fear.

Only freedom.

'_Drem yol lok, _Alduin,' she said, very, very calmly.

Alduin laughed. 'Greetings, _Dovahkiin. _The dragon king meets the dragonborn. What a… fascinating combination.'

'Not for long,' A'jira told him. 'You know how this is going to be, Alduin. There's nobody to help you and nobody to help me. One of us will live and one of us will die. And each of us intends for the other to die.'

'You know you have already lost.' The dragon's voice was full of contempt. 'Come, _kaaz. _There is no need for this battle. It has already been won. We are not so different, the two of us. We are the most powerful beings to ever walk this world. Join with me! Think of what an alliance we would make! Share in the power of the _dov!'_

'When Oblivion freezes over,' A'jira hissed. Her ears were flat back and her tail was beginning to lash. 'You don't have allies, Alduin, only followers.'

Red eyes gleamed with malice, only a few metres away from her own. The two of them had begun to circle each other, like two wolves in a fight for dominance. 'Is it your wish to die, _mey? _Neither of us needs to. Bow down before me, _Dovahkiin, _and I will let you live.'

'If I can't live in a world free from suffering, evil and misery, Alduin, I don't want to live at all.'

'_Nust wo ni qiilaan fen kos duaan. _Those that do not bow will be devoured.'

'You'll have an awful lot of devouring to do, then.'

The black dragon laughed again. 'You make jokes in the face of death, _Dovahkiin? _Do you not know of the prophecy from the dawn of time itself? You cannot defeat me! I am the First-Born of Akatosh! I am fated to come again at the end of the world!'

And to the amazement of the watchers, not least Alduin himself, a smile spread across A'jira's face.

'Oh, but that's it, Alduin,' she chuckled. 'Don't you see?'

The dragon's eyes glinted with hatred as he waited for her to continue. Still smiling, A'jira spoke in a soft but clear voice. 'Before I left him on the Throat of the World, Paarthurnax told me something strange. He said, 'Sometimes, fate and destiny can be different things.' And up until now, I didn't understand what he meant. But now I do.'

She closed her eyes for a long, long, moment, then opened them again.

'Fate,' said A'jira Tygra, 'is something you decide for yourself.'

For a moment, there was complete stillness and silence on the plain beneath the cliff.

'Even if you speak in riddles and smile at your own wisdom,' Alduin growled finally, 'you will never defeat me. For I am Alduin!' He raised his head to the heavens and roared. '_Meyye! Tahrodiis aanne! Him hinde pah liiv! Zu'u hin daan! _Fools! Treacherous ones! All wither! I am your king.' He brought his head back down to face A'jira. 'And you, Dragonborn, you think you can defeat me? You do not even draw your weapon!'

'I don't need it,' A'jira told him quietly.

'No? _Mey! _You think you can defeat me with your Voice alone? Your Voice is so weak it is almost silent! Why, you do not even know Dragonrend!'

'I don't need Dragonrend.' A'jira pulled her bow and quiver from her back and tossed them aside, followed by her dagger. 'I have a _thu'um _of greater power still.'

'Indeed?' Scorn dripped from the single word.

'Yes,' A'jira said simply. She stopped circling, and the two of them faced each other in the same places where they had begun- A'jira with her back to the army of the dead, Alduin with his to the cliff.

For a second time, silence fell.

Then the sun rose over the tops of the mountains and flooded the land with light and warmth, and A'jira Tygra, descendent of J'shana Tygra, the chosen one of Akatosh, the Dragonborn, lifted her head to face the sky and Shouted as loud as her Voice would allow.

'_Wahl ZU DOVAH!'_

And in that instant she understood at last the true power of the Shout that J'shana had created. For _zu, _she knew, meant 'I' or 'me', and _dovah _was 'dragon', and though up until then she had not known the meaning of _wahl, _it came to her suddenly as it ripped from her mouth and burst into the air.

It meant, to make. To create. To build. To become.

And the meaning of the Shout was _make me dragon._

In front of the astonished watchers, a golden glow surrounded A'jira's body. The scales of her armour suddenly became bright and shining. Her tail thickened. The glow engulfed her completely. Soon it was too bright to look upon, and the members of the crowd were forced to turn their faces away, or to cover their eyes with their hands.

And then it faded. And standing in front of them, were not one, but two dragons.

Without speaking, A'jira unfurled her wings. She felt a strange feeling of elation bubbling up inside her. Only yesterday she had been flying on Laaskriiah's back, wishing she had the wings of a dragon. Now that wish had come true. She felt herself baring her teeth in a dragon-smile as she held her wings open before her, as she examined them closely. It was as if the rest of the world was not there as she took in her reddish-copper scales, her black spines, her hefty, powerful tail and the beautiful mottled black and gold markings on her wings. She felt power inside her, burning deep within her heart and soul, the knowledge of fire and tooth and claw.

_Do dragons feel like this all the time? _she wondered. _How can so many be so evil when they live in such wonderful bodies?_

'So, _Dovahkiin.' _Alduin appeared to have overcome his shock. 'You truly do have the _dovah _blood. I almost admire you. It is true; you do indeed have a weapon. But is it enough?'

A'jira turned to face him. Her talons dug into the earth.

'What happens now will decide that,' she snarled.

'We shall see!' Alduin's bellow tore through the sky and A'jira knew that this really was it, it was here and now, and nothing and nobody could save her. 'Let us fight, dragonborn- _dovah _to _dovah!'_

Alduin spread his own wings, black as the shadow he cast on the ground. They flapped once, carrying him up into the air. With a hiss, A'jira rose her wings and brought them down. She gasped as the ground fell away beneath her, the air buoying her up and her weight trying to drag her down. She flapped her wings again and rose higher, and higher still, then suddenly she folded the against her sides and let herself fall. But before she hit the ground, she opened them again, and then she was flying, truly flying, not just battling with gravity, but flying. The wind rushed beneath her and all around her, and her wings felt its shape and guided her through it. It was the most wonderful feeling. It was pure freedom, not to be burdened by the ground. She was one with the sky, one with the wind, and her roar of joy echoed through the mountains.

It was not until Alduin's fire narrowly missed her nose that she remembered she was supposed to be fighting.

Instantly she swerved through the air, shrugging one shoulder and raising one wing. It was amazing, how the knowledge of flight had been programmed into her. This Shout was different, she could tell. Unlike others, which would fade away within minutes, this one, she knew, would last for as long as she had the strength to sustain it. So she had to stay strong, stay without hatred and without fear, until Alduin was dead.

'Who battles the dragon and comes away clean?' Her jubilant challenge rang out through the air as she rose up to meet her opponent, the light of battle shining in her eyes. Alduin arched his neck and breathed fire again, but all it took was a simple swooping dive to avoid it.

'Who uses their wits and their talons to fight?' Alduin came down at her as she came up to him, and they smashed together in mid-air, teeth bared and eyes alight with fury. Alduin lunged at her neck and she twisted away. Bringing up her feet, she scored her claws down his flanks. He howled with pain. Bright crimson blood ran down the black scales and dripped onto the grass below.

'Who hides in the shadows and walks unseen?' Her enemy snapped at her head, but she quickly turned it to the side and his teeth closed with a painful crack on her horns. She laughed and drew back, fire leaping from her mouth, ready to bite. His tail suddenly came out of nowhere, hitting her shoulder and knocking her off balance.

'Who has the eyes that can see in the night?' A'jira continued to recite the poem, knowing that it enraged him. It also gave her strength, the strength to keep going. Alduin's talons slashed at her side, and he followed up the hit with a blow with his wing that struck her head and sent her reeling back, dazed. Shaking her head to clear it, she bared her teeth and lunged, biting a chunk from his neck. The black dragon let out a screech of agony.

'Who hunts in the moonlight, and never feels pain?' Blood flowed freely down both bronze and black scales, but A'jira hardly felt the wounds. She roared with anger as Alduin came down on her back, digging his claws into her sides and biting down on the back of her neck. If it hadn't been for the protection of her spines, it would have been a blow to finish the fight. His weight pushed her down, and she knew she had to break away before he could force her to the ground. Thinking fast, she flipped over, tearing herself from Alduin's grasp and buffeting him with her wings.

'Who falls from the mountain, and lands on their feet?' Fang clashed fang, and blood ran like water, and A'jira knew that she had to put an end to the fight before she could weaken. She needed a plan. Quickly. Whipping her head around for an idea, her gaze fell upon the cliff. A smile spread over her face. She knew what she was going to do. As Alduin lashed out with his tail again, she roared aloud, as if she had been hit. In fact, the pointed tip of his tail barely grazed her. She pulled back, letting one wing hang at an awkward angle, as if it were injured. She saw triumph flash in Alduin's eyes, and despair start to creep over the faces of the watchers. She saw Zaran, and somehow the horror on his face made her strong.

'Who has the blood of the night in their veins?' Keeping up the pretense of injury, A'jira swerved away and flapped in an ungainly fashion towards the cliff, landing heavily upon it as if her wing was not capable of holding her up. She saw Alduin, certain now that the battle was won, fly backwards, smiling, savouring his victory, drawing out the moment before he struck. A'jira crouched low, every muscle tensed in readiness, wings raised and spread out for her final move.

Time slowed down.

Alduin gave an exultant bellow and shot towards her.

'Who but the proud and the fearless _khajiit?'_

As she roared out the final word, A'jira brought down her wings. Up she shot like an arrow into the sky.

Alduin saw her vanish. His eyes widened with horror. A'jira saw him begin to angle his wings backwards, in a last, desperate attempt to brake.

But too late.

Alduin, the World-Eater, First-Born of Akatosh, slammed at full speed, head first, into a cliff of solid rock.

There was a sickening crunch.

And the beast once known as destroyer of worlds slipped, slid and slithered down the rocks, one moment a messenger of death, the next moment limp and useless, like a broken toy.

He tumbled down onto the plains and landed with a thud, lying still on the grass. A collective gasp arose from the circle. A'jira folded her wings and swooped down onto the ground, letting the golden glow surround her once more as her wings retreated and morphed into arms, her scales turned to armour and fur, her horns became part of her helmet once more. The light faded from her as she bent down and picked up her weapons, polishing her dagger on her amour and tucking it into her belt, picking up her bow and drawing a single arrow from her quiver.

In three slow strides she crossed the ground and stood beside the World-Eater.

Weakly, he raised his head. His horns were splintered and crumbled, and blood almost obscured his face, but the malice in the scarlet eyes still gleamed bright, deadly and strong.

'_Nid,' _he hissed, as A'jira nocked the arrow to her bow and drew back the string. 'No, this cannot be! _Zu'u unslaad, zu'u nis oblaan! _I am immortal, I cannot die. I cannot die! _I cannot die!'_

A'jira faced him calmly and looked into his eyes. 'A coward dies a thousand times, Alduin; a warrior dies only once. I would gladly have given my life in battle with you to save Skyrim. That is what makes a warrior. You fled when I came hunting you, instead of facing me. That is what makes a coward. Look up at the stars, Alduin. When I was young, I was told that each one of those stars is the spirit of a dead warrior. Many of them are there because of you. And now that I bring about your destruction they will finally be at peace. Though you claim that we are similar, we could not be more different. For you fight for greed and power. I fight for what I love.'

A'jira's fingers slipped from her bowstring.

The thin twine snapped forward.

The arrow shot from the bow and sliced through the air-

And struck home, burying itself up to the black feathered fletching in the black dragon's throat.

Instantly Alduin reared up, stretching out his neck and spreading his wings. Thunder boomed high in the heavens and lightning shot in a vicious white streak of fire across the sky. His mouth opened in a final roar, a terrible, screaming bellow that shook the earth to its foundations. The roar echoed around the mountains, around the whole land, through the void between worlds and all over the planet of Nirn. All over the land of Skyrim, the followers of Alduin heard that roar and knew that the end had come.

The sound faltered and died in Alduin's throat. With a thud, his body collapsed to the ground. A spasm ran through it. The red eyes were two gleaming pools of hatred, glaring up into A'jira's with such venom and rage it almost burned her to look at them. For a few heartbeats, the eyes of the dragon met the eyes of the dragonborn.

Life is a strange thing. It is perhaps the most powerful force in the universe. But it never lasts forever. And its ending is not always how you would expect.

For life is wonderful, but it is so, so fragile. One moment, there.

The next-

Alduin's eyes slipped slowly shut. A final jerk convulsed his body. His tail thumped on the ground one final time.

And fell still.

Silence fell for a third time in the land of Sovngarde.

And then the fire began. Alduin's inner flame rose up from within him, a blaze of glowing embers that turned all it touched to ash. Scales and flesh disintegrated, the fire grew still stronger, floating into the air and burning fiercer still with every second. Then fire turned to light, glowing white light that rose up from the body, leaving only bone. And A'jira knew what was coming and drank it in as it came towards her-

Instantly she cried out as the all-too-familiar rage gripped her mind. But it was far, far more powerful than the rage she had felt from Mirmulnir or Sahloknir or the blood dragon she had killed in Solitude. This was more than rage, it was vengeance and cruelty and a vicious, vicious hatred that consumed her in its darkness, worming its way into her mind and taking hold. This was pure evil.

_You cannot win, Dovahkiin._

A'jira gasped as Alduin's voice echoed in her head. She focused with all her strength, trying to win the battle of souls taking place within her, but he was too strong.

_Surrender to me, mortal. Do not fight me. Embrace me. I can give you so much. I can give you all you ever wanted, and more._

Suddenly A'jira was on her knees. She hadn't realized she had fallen, but suddenly there she was. 'Get away from me,' she tried to growl, but it came out as a sob.

_Come, why do you fight? Think of what we could do together. Think of all the power I can offer you. The whole world could be yours._

'No.' It took all of A'jira's strength to say the single word.

_It will be easier than fighting. You cannot win. I have won already. You can defeat my body, but not my soul. I am strong and you are weak. Embrace me!_

'No…'

Darkness was moving in, a sticky black cloud that clogged her mind and stopped her from thinking clearly. She could no longer remember her name, or who she was, or what she was doing here. She was meant to be fighting something… right? But what? Panic rose up within her. The darkness swamped her mind, and somewhere very, very far away, she heard Alduin laughing.

And then a voice.

A new voice. A voice she recognized.

A voice that shouted a single word. A name.

'A'jira!'

Zaran.

Not just any voice.

The voice of hope.

The one word, shouted in that voice, was like a claw, slicing through the veil of shadow and hatred in her mind and letting in the light. Suddenly, everything came rushing back to her, who she was, what she was doing, why she was doing it. And she focused on the remnants of that one word still hanging in the air and focused on its power.

She got to her feet and raised her head, facing the sky that was turning from indigo to blue in the morning sunlight.

And shouted to the skies.

'Zaran!'

Light exploded inside her mid, a whirlpool of colour. She heard Alduin hiss in panic and fury. _What is this? What are you doing? What is this power, far mightier than any thu'um?_

A'jira smiled and opened her eyes.

'Love, Alduin,' she said simply. 'The one thing you will never and can never understand.'

_Love? Love cannot conquer me! I am Alduin, I am immortal, nothing can defeat me! I will not die, I cannot die, I-_

'But you're wrong,' A'jira told him. 'You can't take me. I've got someone I need to go back to. And you're not keeping me away from him. Nothing will. Nothing can. Not even you, Alduin. Especially not you.'

_Nid! NID! I CANNOT DIE!_

And then there was an explosion of light inside her head. She heard a final, desperate roar, and then with a burst of colour like a rainbow shattering into a thousand pieces, Alduin was gone from inside her, and her mind was free.

Dawn came upon Sovngarde.

* * *

**Seeing as this chapter is the climax, I'd like some feedback if possible, so I know it was up to scratch… so which bits did you think were best, and which could have been improved? Any lines you particularly liked? **

**There'll be one more chapter set in Sovngarde after this, so if you think I've left someone out who you think should appear there, PM me and I'll do my best to fit them in.**

**You can look up any dragon words you don't understand on the 'Dragon Language' page on the Elder Scrolls wiki. It's been very handy! Please note though that I used some artistic license with the world 'wahl.'**

**I'll try to get the next chapter up soon!**


	21. A New Dawn

Chapter Twenty One- A New Dawn

Date: 14th of Sun's Height

Location: Hall of Valour

It was over.

At last, it was done. Alduin was dead.

Golden light flooded over the plains, illuminating the scene. An array of white bones, all that remained of the word-eater Alduin, lay on the grass, gleaming pale creamy-gold in the dawn sum. Blood lay on the leaves like sticky crimson dew. A circle of warriors stood around a single figure, a figure that stood alone before the skeleton of her fallen foe, bow shining like polished ebony.

Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. It seemed that nobody even breathed. Nobody could quite believe that it was over, finally over, that Alduin was dead, that the Dragonborn had won.

Then a lone figure broke through the ranks of the solemn-faced warriors and ran to A'jira's side. 'A'jira! Are you all right? For the Hist's sake, tell me you're all right.'

A'jira turned her head and beamed at the friend who had accompanied her through so much. 'Never better, Zaran.'

The silence stretched on as the last inch of the shining disc of the sun lifted itself above the mountains.

It was one of the Companions who moved first, a man with long dark hair and an enormous greatsword. He drove the tip of his weapon's blade into the ground and grasped the hilt with his left hand. Then he went down on one knee, his right hand clenched in a fist over his heart, still holding his sword, head bowed in a sign of deepest respect.

One by one, the small army that stood around A'jira and Zaran began to do the same. Stormcloaks, Imperials, the Dark Brotherhood, the Companions, the College, the Thieves Guild, even J'shana and Derkeethus- all knelt down before the warriors who had saved their lives and their home, eyes shining with awe, admiration and wonder. Zaran started to do the same, but A'jira caught him by the arm and shook her head. She would never have survived the battle of wills with Alduin if not for him. This victory belonged to him as much as it did to her.

The silence and stillness went on and on, and then suddenly it was shattered without warning. A man in the ranks of the Dark Brotherhood, dressed for some reason in a jester's outfit, threw his arms up into the air and started to dance a jig, whooping at the top of his voice. Every head turned to stare at him, and if looks could kill there would have been nothing left of the jester but dust. But suddenly, as if the madman's celebration had been some kind of signal, J'shana leaped to her feet, punched the air, and let out a jubilant caterwaul, some battle cry in Ta'agra. Derkeethus joined her, cheering his delight to the skies, and then everyone, young or old, man, elf or beast, was on their feet and cheering fit to burst. A'jira saw Ulfric Stormcloak, Galmar Stone-Fist and Legate Rikke nodding slowly and approvingly, their smiles almost too big for their faces, saw Kodlak Whitemane and the other Companions raising their weapons in the air and roaring with joy, saw the Thieves Guild striking the air with their fists and cheering far louder than the roar of a dragon, saw the mages of the College of Winterhold sending bursts of coloured light up into the sky, saw even the shadowy, secretive Dark Brotherhood yelling and grinning like children.

But best of all, she saw Zaran, smiling fit to burst, emerald eyes glowing with pride and joy and love. She threw her arms around him and held him close, and he lifted her up off the ground and spun her around in a circle. Suddenly she was laughing, laughing with pure, unbroken happiness. Because Alduin was dead, Skyrim was free, and Zaran loved her.

There was no need for a speech this time, no need for words. Everyone knew what had happened, everyone could see the white bones of Alduin bleaching in the sun. Everyone had seen A'jira triumph over him, seen her arrow claim his life and her love vanquish his soul.

Anyone watching from above would have thought it a strange procession that made its way back to the Hall of Valour that morning. In the lead walked a young female Khajiit, amber eyes shining with joy. By her side was a male Argonian in the robes of a mage, who had his arm around her shoulders. Behind them another Khajiit followed, so similar to one in front of her that, had one not been older than the other, they could have been twin sisters. Another male Argonian walked beside her. Behind the leading four came a throng of people, around fifty in all, all cheering, laughing, whooping and singing. Most amazing of all was the diversity of the warriors that walked behind the two Dragonborns and their Argonian companions. There were men, elves and beasts dressed in the flowing robes of mages of the College, the dark leathers of the Thieves Guild and Dark Brotherhood, the heavy armour of the Companions, the red tunics and steel or leather armour of Imperials, and the chainmail, blue sashes and quilted cuirasses of Stormcloak warriors. Men and women that would usually have been each other's mortal foes walked side by side, talking and chuckling together as if they were brothers and sisters. And though each and every one of them had fought like sabre cats that day, not a single weapon was drawn.

What was it, A'jira wondered, as she strolled along at their head, that had united these enemies, made them fight side by side? The fight had been fast-paced and too quick to make any real sense of, but had she not seen Ulfric Stormcloak push Legate Rikke out of the way of Alduin's snapping jaws an instant before they claimed her life? Had Farkas of the Companions not grabbed Veezara's tunic and pulled him out of harm's way just as Alduin's fire turned the grass to ashes in the exact place the Argonian assassin had been standing only a second before? Had Brynjolf not rushed to the aid of Savos Aren as the black dragon drew back his head to bite into the Dunmer's chest? And had each and every one of the fighters walking behind her not followed her into battle? A Khajiit had walked at the head of these warriors, the warriors that were on a quest to vanquish the greatest evil that ever lived. And it had been A'jira and J'shana, and no others, who had commanded them.

Hope, A'jira realised suddenly. Hope, love and loyalty. Hope that the battle could be won, love for the country that would be destroyed if they did not fight together, loyalty to their homeland and its people. She felt her smile widen as she realised that far from scattering and enslaving the people of Skyrim, Alduin had in fact brought them together. Men, elves and beasts had fought as equals this day. Maybe, in days to come, they would fight as equals again.

And as she looked at the sun, rising still higher into the azure sky, A'jira realised that it was more than any normal dawn. It was not just the coming of a new day. It was the coming of a new era.

* * *

A'jira's face hurt from smiling and laughing. She cradled her mug of ale in her paws. It was nearly empty. The heroes of Sovngarde and the visitors from the other realms had drunk toast after toast- to A'jira, to J'shana, to Zaran, to Derkeethus, to Skyrim, to the future, to freedom, to equality- to anything and everything they could think of. They had even, with much laughter, toasted Alduin for being so easy to kill.

Now, they were feasting. It was strange to A'jira, seeing so much food set before her when her body told her it wasn't even time for breakfast yet- but she was too exhausted and euphoric to care. Everywhere she looked, she saw celebration. Cicero, the insane jester from the Dark Brotherhood, was dancing on the table, juggling with a sweetroll, a carrot, a dagger, and Galmar Stone-Fist's helmet. (Galmar himself was fast asleep on the floor, having had rather too much mead than was good for him.) Hakon One-Eye, one of the three ancient heroes who had fought alongside J'shana in her battle against Alduin, was proposing yet another toast, this time to valour and courage. Brynjolf, Ulfric, the Companions warrior Torvar and the Stormcloak soldier Ralof had managed to get their hands on a barrel of firebrand wine, and were enthusiastically mixing it in with their mead. Legate Rikke had removed her heavy steel chestplate and was going over the finer points of the battle with Kodlak Whitemane. Karliah and Aela, who appeared to have taken a shine to each other during their stealth attack on Alduin, were deep in a discussion about archery.

For the first time in her entire life, A'jira felt entirely and blissfully happy. She was among friends, she was no longer scorned and despised, and the threat of Alduin was gone. Over the past few hours, almost everybody in the hall had come up to congratulate her and thank her- among them, to her delight, her lost friend Faenlor. She had felt tears threatening her as she thanked the elf again and again for his sacrifice, but he had simply smiled. 'Your life was, and still is, far more important than mine,' he insisted calmly, and try as she might A'jira could not persuade him otherwise. But it put her mind at peace to know that the brave warrior who had taught her so much in so little time was in Sovngarde, and living in the glory and peace he deserved.

The hubbub of voices went quiet suddenly, and A'jira glanced up. A group of bards, bearing lutes, flutes and drums, had climbed up onto the table, blowing and strumming a few practice notes. J'shana, sitting on A'jira's left, grinned. 'That's the thing about Nord heroes,' she hissed into her descendant's ear. 'Nothing heroic can happen without them making up a song.'

A'jira chuckled and watched as the last few chattering people fell silent and the leader of the bards cleared his throat and stepped forward. 'In honour of our heroes, and the great battle that was fought today,' he called out, 'we have created a song in the honour of the Dragonborns of both the present and the past, who have twice saved our world from destruction.' He dipped his head towards J'shana and A'jira. 'We call it _Legend of the Dragonborns, _and it will be sung in the halls of Sovngarde for seasons unending.'

Polite applause broke out as the bards took up their instruments and began. The song started with an even, steady drumbeat, which was soon joined by a low strumming from one of the lute players and a melodic introduction from the flutist. As a high, piercing note from the flute trembled in the air, the lead bard began to sing in a clear, loud voice.

'_The tides of the seasons, they ebb and they flow_

_Our foes and our allies, they come and they go_

_The people of Nirn have come such a way_

_To make themselves who they are today_

_Out of the dark, the Dragonborn came_

_Honour and valour were one with her name_

_With Voice and with courage she rescued this world_

_Of the evil that came with its dark wings unfurled_

_And oh, how the people would dance and rejoice_

_As all danger fled at the sound of her Voice_

_She brought back the peace to a terrorised land_

_As Alduin, the World-Eater, died at her hand!_

_She lived on in peace for season on season_

_Calm in her life, and sound in her reason_

_And on her death was rewarded at last-_

_The warrioress of the fiery past! _

_Leaving a world that lay in her debt_

_Her name and her deeds they swore not to forget_

_But then they festered, grew bitter with shame_

_Spurning her legacy, scorning her name_

'_Till nobody living in that land did know_

_Who saved them from Alduin cent'ries ago_

_Then evil returned in a wicked black horde_

_And a young warrior picked up her sword_

_Out of the shadows, a hero arose_

_Fulfilling a legend that everyone knows_

_Alone she stood against Alduin's ire_

_With courage and spirit far fiercer than fire!_

_She led us from darkness back into the dawn_

_The hero of heroes, the great Dragonborn!_

_She battled the enemy in Sovngarde_

_She faced him alone with fire in her heart!_

_How Alduin quailed as he looked on his bane_

_Fire burned brightly and blood fell like rain_

_The Dragonborn's challenge rang out in the air-_

'_Justice is with us! Beware! Beware!''_

Cheers broke out and the entire company burst into applause, clapping until it sounded like rain was hammering on the ceiling of the hall. The musicians bowed and smiled, then struck up the song again as yells came for an encore. A'jira felt herself smiling until she could smile no more. Contentment washed over her. Her destiny was fulfilled; Alduin was dead. Skyrim was safe and at peace. She hadn't realised just how tired she was until she felt her eyes slipping slowly shut. She fell asleep to the sound of music, and voices raised in exultant song.

* * *

Zaran, returning to the table with a mug of ale in each hand, smiled as he saw A'jira close her eyes and slip into sleep. She looked so peaceful, a slight purr rumbling in her throat and a smile on her face, that he couldn't bear to disturb her. Setting her mug down beside her in case she wanted it when she awoke, he went and sat down next to Derkeethus, who was chuckling slightly as he watched Cicero fall off the table and into a barrel of mead. He smiled at Zaran as the young Argonian sat down. 'Quite a day, hmm?'

Zaran nodded. 'I think it's been a tiring one for A'jira.'

Derkeethus glanced at the sleeping Khajiit and laughed quietly. 'Well, she has fought harder than any of us. Who else has battled like that and lived to tell the tale? She has every right to be tired.' Turning back to Zaran, he added, 'I expect you'll be glad to return to Nirn.'

Again, Zaran nodded. 'Sovngarde is beautiful, and I will be glad to return here when I die, if I can. But Skyrim has become my home over the last few weeks. I belong there, with A'jira. And there is still much to do. There are still dragons enslaved in the minds of Alduin's followers, and they have to be freed. There are still those who do not remember J'shana and everything she did, and they have to be told. Nobody there knows yet that Alduin is dead, and they have to know. Skyrim needs us.'

Derkeethus looked at him intently. 'I think you should know, friend, that I admire you greatly,' he said, folding his arms. 'It must have taken great courage to follow A'jira to Sovngarde.'

Zaran shrugged. 'It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I didn't really think it over. I just saw her disappearing and realised I'd rather die than let her go alone.'

The older Argonian smiled sadly. 'I felt the same way. I would have followed her, I think, if she had not ordered me not to. She told me that she didn't want to risk me being killed. It made me hesitate for long enough for the portal to close before I could go with her. I have always regretted that. Waiting alone on the Throat of the World, not knowing what had happened, praying to the Hist and to all the Divines that she would come back to me.' He sighed. 'You should be proud, marsh-friend. You made the right choice.'

Blushing, though his scales hid it, Zaran bit back a grin. 'Thank you. I didn't really decide it, though. I just did it.'

'That's how life works.' Derkeethus leaned back in his chair and gave a contented sigh. 'It's the little things that decide where our paths lead. The little decisions we make without thinking, the little actions that change history, the little things we do and say.' He grinned slightly. 'You know, I wouldn't be here if not for the rain.'

'The rain?'

'Yes. If it hadn't been raining, my J'shana would never have taken shelter in the cave where I was imprisoned. We would never have met each other. Funny, how such a little thing changed both our lives forever.'

Zaran thought back to how he'd arrived at the Throat of the World on his way to Winterhold. If he hadn't met M'aiq, he might never have learned that this was the highest mountain in Tamriel, one that hadn't been climbed for years. He might never have tried to climb it. He might never have been caught by those bandits. And he'd never have met A'jira.

As he raised his mug to drink, he whispered a silent thank you to everyone who had, however unintentionally, brought him to where he was today. To his uncle, for suggesting he learn magic at the College of Winterhold. To M'aiq, for arousing his sense of adventure and so making him attempt to climb the mountain. To the bandits, even, for capturing him. But most of all to the Gods, who had decided that his path and A'jira's must meet.

* * *

A'jira felt a hand on her arm. Slowly, bit by bit, sleep relinquished its hold on her, returning her to the world of the living from a deep and dreamless slumber. Her eyes flicked open and met a second pair of amber eyes, identical to A'jira's in almost every way.

'I'm sorry to wake you,' J'shana said quietly. Looking around, A'jira saw that the other heroes of Sovngarde were asleep, mostly draped over mugs of mead. 'But there are some people who you need to meet, and I thought it would be easier if you spoke to them before the others woke up.'

Nodding, A'jira rubbed her eyes and got to her feet. As she followed J'shana through the hall, picking her way through the sleeping people on the floor, she counted mentally in her mind how long it had been since all this had begun. It had started the day she had been accused of that murder in Whiterun. Then she had stayed the night in Dragonsreach before going to Ulfgard with Faenlor. Before the day was out, she had killed her first dragon. On the following day, she had met Zaran. And the next, Paarthurnax and Odahviing had confirmed her destiny. One night spent in Dragonborn Barrow, and then the battle with the dragon outside Solitude had taken place. Then the speech to the people and the battle with Sahloknir, another night in Laaskriiah's cave, then the journey to Skuldafn, then the battle with Alduin, only that morning… could that really make it only seven days? Strange to think that J'shana's quest had lasted months whereas hers had been over in a week.

'Here.' J'shana's voice broke in on A'jira's thoughts. She gestured to two lone figures who were standing at the far end of the hall. A'jira glanced at her questioningly. J'shana simply inclined her head towards them, motioning for her to go over to them. Frowning, A'jira started to walk tentatively forwards.

As she neared the two people, she felt something stir inside her. Some long-forgotten memory straining to be remembered. She started to walk a little faster. That was when the realisations hit her, one after another in quick succession, so hard and fast they almost hurt. They were both Khajiit. One was a man and the other a woman. And the man had amber eyes.

She stopped dead.

A smile spread across the face of the male, a smile that was reflected in the twinkle in his amber eyes. 'A'jira,' he breathed.

Memories, a relentless stream of bittersweet memories, rose up inside A'jira in a churning tide. A smile. A soothing, gentle voice, singing her to sleep. A laugh that made her heart dance with happiness. Tender hands hanging a wooden amulet shaped like a flying dragon around her neck.

Scarcely daring to believe it, A'jira whispered two words, hardly able to say them in case speaking her hopes out loud made them cease to be true.

'Mother? Father?'

Their smiles widened.

With a strangled sob, A'jira sprinted across the hall and threw herself into their arms. Her mother's joyous tears fell onto A'jira's armour as she wrapped her arms around her daughter, and her father let out that wonderful laugh that A'jira remembered so well. It was as if she had been catapulted back thirteen years to the happy times around the fireside, as if none of the things that had followed that fateful day when the wolves attacked their camp had ever happened.

She looked at them with unsuppressed wonder. Their faces, forgotten for so long, now seemed so familiar she could hardly believe she had ever forgotten them. Her father looked like her, just taller and brawnier, with the same pale tabby fur, black tiger stripes and flame-coloured eyes that seemed to be in the blood of all those who carried the name Tygra. Her mother was smaller and slimmer, with pale tawny fur flecked with black, and eyes the colour of summer grass. The faces brought such a strong rush of memories into A'jira's mind that she had trouble making sense of them all. She remembered sitting upon her father's shoulders, watching the world go by as they trekked across the land, she remembered watching with wide eyes as her mother flashed a paw into a river and a fish was thrown from the shimmering water and onto the bank, she remembered picking up her father's bow where he had left it leaning against a rock and admiring its deadly power. In her mind, she saw her mother rush over to stop her, and heard her father's voice as he laid a gentle hand on his wife's shoulder to stop her. 'Let her, S'rani. She will need knowledge of weapons one day. If what we were told at her birth is true, she will someday become the greatest warrior to ever set foot on this world.'

The visions faded, and she looked up in awe into her parent's eyes.

'My little dragon,' her father murmured, his purr filling the room. 'We're so proud of you.'

A'jira's hand strayed unconsciously to the wooden amulet she had worn for as long as she could remember. The amulet that had given her her name. The only gift from her parents she had ever had. 'My little dragon,' she whispered, tears filling her eyes as she remembered. 'That's what you always used to call me.'

Her father nodded. 'It was always our intention to tell you why when you were old enough to know. But… that could not be.'

'You knew?' A'jira stared in shock. 'You… you knew I was Dragonborn?'

'Not completely.' Her mother's Elsweyr accent was far broader than her husband's. It conjured up images of distant deserts of golden sand. 'We guessed, but we were never certain until we met J'shana.'

'But how did you…?' A'jira looked from one to the other, fur prickling with surprise.

'On the night that you were born, we both dreamed the same dream.' Her father closed his eyes, lost in the past. 'Akatosh himself came to us, in the form of a dragon. He told us that you were the chosen one, the one who would save all of Skyrim from destruction. He said that there was no avoiding this destiny, but that you had been given a great gift from him, and that one day you would use it to save the lives of every man, elf and beast in this entire world.'

'Shavir and I tried to make him reveal more, but he would not say.' Her mother's tail flicked. 'We naturally thought that it meant you were Dragonborn. What else could you be, if you were chosen by Akatosh?'

A'jira looked at her amulet. 'Is that why you gave me this?'

'The dragon has always been the symbol of the Tygra family.' Her father fingered an identical amulet that hung around his own neck. 'It has been ever since the days of J'shana, though we had long forgotten its meaning by the time of your birth. And now here you are. The last of the Tygras, and you have become the mightiest warrior that ever lived.'

'Am I really the last?' A'jira's eyes widened.

'The Dragon blood runs through all who carry our name,' her father smiled. 'But there is nobody on this world that possesses that blood but you.'

'We've been watching you.' Her mother was smiling through her tears. 'We've been watching you since the day we came here. We've been watching you through everything you've done. And we'll watch over you forever.'

Her father nodded. 'No parents could ever be prouder of their daughter. It's nearly time for you to return home, but remember, always, no matter what might happen, that we love you.'

'I love you too,' A'jira whispered.

Her father reached down and stroked her cheek, a gesture she remembered so well and had all but forgotten. 'The destiny you were born for is fulfilled; you have your whole life ahead of you. You must live it to the full. Promise us that, my little dragon.'

'I promise.' A'jira's throat was almost too tight for her to speak, but though her sadness was almost overwhelming, it was a good sadness, a warm sadness.

Groans and sleepy murmurs from around them indicated that the others were beginning to wake. Her father straightened up. 'Go now, my love. It is time for you to return to your home.'

Her mother blinked the tears from her jade-green eyes. 'In seasons to come, remember us. Remember we're with you.'

Her father nodded. 'We always will be.'

* * *

The time had come.

The sun was at its zenith, still shedding the glorious golden light of victory upon the mountains of Sovngarde. The bones of Alduin had been taken away and buried in an unmarked place. Shor's Hall stood empty- each and every warrior that had celebrated the victory feast was outside, the sun warming their backs as they stood beneath the endless blue sky, now longer shrouded by mists and sprinkled with drifts of clouds that looked like flakes of snow blown away in the wind. The snow on the peaks of the highest mountains shone like polished diamonds and the pine trees swayed slightly in the breeze, whispering to each other as the wind stirred their branches.

A'jira and Zaran stood alone, facing the crowd of fighters. The young Khajiit's voice rang out clear in the air. 'It's been an honour to be here and to fight alongside you,' she told them, eyes shining with gratitude. 'Each and every one of you put aside your differences and united in order to rid our home of the evil that threatened it. You would have given your life so that my destiny could be fulfilled, and I will never forget that for as long as I live.'

Zaran nodded. 'Neither of us will.'

A'jira raised her head, looking up to the sun which hung in the heavens like a great, all-seeing eye. 'One day, we will return here. When our time comes, we will leave Nirn behind and take our places among your ranks, here in the eternal glory of Sovngarde. Until that day comes, we will bid you farewell. I pray that the Divines watch over you and guide your footsteps until we meet again.'

'May it be so,' someone called out, and a murmur of agreement rose from the ranks of the warriors.

J'shana stepped out from the crowd and raised her arms slightly. 'Divines walk with you, my friends, in this life and the next. May you walk on warm sands.'

Tsun took two paces forward, covering twice the distance an ordinary sized person would have done. 'Are you ready to return to your world?'

A'jira and Zaran looked and each other. There was no need for words. Sovngarde was beautiful. But it was not for them. Not yet. Skyrim needed them, and Skyrim was there home.

A'jira spoke for them both. 'We're ready.'

'Then may you have the strength of Shor and the courage of Akatosh, as you defend your homeland.' Tsun bowed his head. '_NAHL DALL VUL!'_

As the Shout washed over her, A'jira turned to look upon the band of warriors she was leaving behind. She saw Derkeethus, his hand raised in farewell, saw S'rani and Shavir, the parents she had found again after so long crying as they called out their goodbyes, saw J'shana, amber eyes glowing as she lifted her bow into the air. And all of the others, waving, cheering, weeping, smiling, men, elves and beasts from every corner of Tamriel and beyond, who had joined together to save Skyrim, united under the banner of freedom and hope…

Then suddenly it was as if a mighty wind had caught hold of her and swept her off her feet. The mountains of Sovngarde and its warriors were lost from view, lost to the churning light and darkness of the Void as she and Zaran rose and fell at the same time, down and up, forwards and backwards, away from the world of the dead and into the land of the living, the final goodbyes of their companions ringing in their ears.

Then suddenly they were falling from the sky. Snow broke their fall, scattering in all directions as Khajiit and Argonian hit the ground. A chill breeze ruffled A'jira's fur as she shakily got to her feet.

They were standing at the Throat of the World. Skyrim lay beneath them, somehow even more beautiful for her having left it, for however briefly. It had been noon in Sovngarde, but somehow it was midnight here, and the moon floated in the sky like a cat's claw made of ivory. The stars above gleamed with brightness and hope.

And all around, there were dragons.

Everywhere, dragons perched- on the rocks, on the plateau, on the sheer cliffs. Three of them, crouched on the word wall, let out roars of delight that shattered the silence as A'jira and Zaran turned to face them. A smile spread across A'jira's face as she recognised them- one bronze, one red, one grey. Laaskriiah, Odahviing, and Paarthurnax.

The other dragons did not move. They did not roar or speak. They simply sat and stared, eyes wide as they looked upon the two young beasts, their faces showing everything from horror to awe to delight to admiration.

And then suddenly, without warning, one of them- glistening white with enormous black spines- lifted its head into the sky and sent a jet of frost into the air, roaring with joy. '_Mu los vomir!'_

And A'jira's mind, somehow affected by the time it had spent as the mind of a dragon, translated the words and her smile widened. _We are free!_

The other dragons joined in, all breathing out fire or ice as they bellowed their tribute to the Dragonborn and her friend to the heavens.

'_Alduin mahlaan!' _

'_Dovahkiin los ok dovahkriid!'_

'_Sahrot thur qahnaraan!'_

'_Thu'umii los nahlot!'_

Quietly, A'jira murmured their meanings. 'Alduin has fallen. Dragonborn is the Dragonslayer. Mighty overlord vanquished. His Shouts are silenced.'

'_Dov!' _Paarthurnax raised his head, and though he was bent and grey with age, his voice was clear and strong and commanding. '_Wo los hin thur?' _Dragons! Who is your overlord?

The answer came without hesitation, roared to the stars.

'_Dovahkiin!'_

In turn, each of the dragons lifted off from where they perched and alighted on the ground in front of A'jira and Zaran. They bent their long necks until their heads touched the ground. _'Thuri,' _they murmured, one by one, then they took off into the night, vanishing among the mountain peaks.

A'jira and Zaran stood alone in front of the three dragons that had made it possible for them to accomplish their quest.

Paarthurnax spoke first. 'So, it is done at last, and this time for good. _Alduin, dilon… _You have won a mighty victory, Dovahkiin.'

Laaskriiah nodded. 'This world has a great future ahead of it, and you will be the one to lead it into a new dawn.'

'And you too, _jel, _you must not be _vodahmin.' _Odahviing dipped his head to Zaran. 'Through your loyalty you accompanied the _Dovahkiin _to Sovngarde and fought by her side. Your courage can never be forgotten.'

Paarthurnax growled in agreement. 'Indeed. From this moment, _fahdon _of the _Dovahkiin, _the _dov _shall know you as _Ziiahkrin- _courageous spirit. May you bear it well.'

'Thank you,' Zaran said uncertainly, but there was pride and delight in his eyes.

'What will you do now, _Dovahkiin?' _Laaskriiah tipped her head on one side questioningly.

A'jira shrugged. A feeling of freedom came over her as she realized she could do anything. With Alduin dead, the whole world belonged to her and Zaran. They could go as they pleased now. And there was so much out there, waiting for them…

'It's not far to Whiterun,' she said finally. 'We should talk to the Jarl, ask him to send word to the other Holds that Alduin is dead.'

Zaran nodded. 'And then we need to find the other dragons. The ones that are still enslaved. They have to be set free.'

'And then…' A'jira shrugged. 'We could do anything, really. I'd like to rebuild High Hrothgar- found a new cult like the Greybeards. Teaching people the Way of the Voice. Something in J'shana's diary suggested a sort of combination between the Blades and the Greybeards- people who know the Way of the Voice and use it to defend Skyrim from all danger.'

Zaran chuckled. 'Though I think we'll be avoiding calling it the Greybeards, seeing as that excludes anyone who doesn't have a beard.'

Paarthurnax let out a chuckle. 'These are worthy missions, _kiirre. _I wish you luck in them.'

'And what will you do?' A'jira looked at the three dragons inquisitively.

'I must return to my den in the mountains.' Laaskriiah turned her head towards where her home lay. 'But call me when you have need of me, and if I can, I will come to you and fight at your side.'

Odahviing clawed the stone of the Word Wall. 'I will be watching over you, _Dovahkiin, _just as I always have done.'

'And you?' A'jira frowned at Paarthurnax, who had closed his eyes and bowed his head.

The old dragon let out a sigh. 'My time here is at an end,' he said quietly.

'An end?' A'jira stared at him in confusion. 'What do you mean?'

'I am old, _Dovahkiin.' _Paarthurnax blinked sadly at her. 'I was old even when your ancestor and I first met, and even then I had been old for many, many years. The only reason I have stayed this long is to see the _dinok _of Alduin and to guide you through your quest as best as I can. Now this land has no need of me. I go to a place that only the _dov _know, a place where I can pass on to the next life.'

The meaning of his words hit A'jira like a physical blow. 'You… you can't leave! We still need you! And I haven't even properly thanked you for helping me!'

'_Nid, Dovahkiin. _Your victory is all the thanks I need. My time here is over. This _laas_ is finished for me. The next awaits me.' A'jira opened her mouth to protest, but Paarthurnax cut across her. 'Do not hold me back, young one. Someday, we may meet again.'

'I hope so.' A'jira looked at him for a few moments, trying her best to stifle her tears, then ran forward and threw her arms around the old dragon's neck.

'_Dovahkiin,' _Paarthurnax chuckled. 'Don't be foolish. I am ready to move on.'

A'jira released him and stepped back. 'I… I know we only properly spoke once before, but you've done so much for me all my life, even though I never knew it.' She swallowed back her tears. 'Goodbye, Paarthurnax.'

'Fare thee well, _Dovahkiin. _Fare thee well, _Ziiahkrin. _Look after this land, and each other. Never before did such great warriors walk this world.'

All three dragons spread their wings and lifted off into the air. They rose up together into the sky, then parted and swooped away low over the mountains in three different directions. The stars glinted on their scales as they slipped behind the clouds and vanished from sight.

Zaran and A'jira looked at each other.

For a minute, neither of them spoke.

'What now?' Zaran asked finally.

A'jira cast a last look at the place where Paarthurnax had disappeared, where the ancient guardian of the Throat of the World had been seen on Nirn for the last time. She drew in a long, shaky breath. 'Whiterun,' she said quietly.

Zaran nodded. 'Maybe on the way down we'll meet that mad Khajiit and tell him that he can climb the mountain now.'

They both laughed, and as they did, something caught A'jira's eye. The moonlight, glinting on something around Zaran's neck.

She stopped, blinked, and looked again.

'Zaran,' she said slowly.

The Argonian looked up at her, blinked nervously, and glanced at the ground. 'A'jira?'

Gently, A'jira reached out and lifted up the amulets that hung around his neck. One was the Amulet of Akatosh from Laaskriiah's horde. She let that drop. But she kept holding the other, staring in blank shock and amazement at the delicate bronze design with the single pale green-blue stone set in the centre.

'Mara?' she whispered, tearing her gaze away from the amulet and looking up at him.

Zaran took a deep breath. He knew that now, there was no turning back.

'A'jira… you know how I feel about you. I never felt the same way about anyone. Never in my life.'

Everything had gone very quiet. To A'jira, the world had shrunk to contain just two people.

'I… I was scared to ask before. In case one of us didn't survive. But now… we've got the whole world. We've got the rest of our lives. I'd be honoured to stand by your side until the trees themselves fade away.' Zaran swallowed hard and looked down at the snow. 'If… if you would have me.'

Silence. Stillness. Not a single sound or movement, but for the wind whistling as it brushed the snow in clouds of dazzling white dust from the mountain peaks.

Very slowly, A'jira's hands reached up, taking a gentle hold of his face. He brought up his own hands, until they rested on hers. There they stood, alone in the snow, gazing into each other's eyes.

'Oh, Zaran.' A'jira's smile was brighter than the sun. 'Of course I will.'

They stood there for a few more moments, the moon turning A'jira's fur to silver and Zaran's scales to shining emerald. Then, as if by some unspoken, mutual agreement, they turned, joined hands, and started to walk back down the mountain.

* * *

**I worked really hard on this chapter, but somehow I have this feeling it's not really as good as it could be… am I just being paranoid? Please reassure me if you can (:**

**The song in this chapter,**_** 'Legend of the Dragonborns,' **_**is completely mine. Please don't copy it; I spent a long time on those rhymes…**

**Again, artistic license was used with the dragon language… **_**Ziiahkrin **_**means 'spirit with courage.' (Though I doubt anyone really minds)**

**One more chapter after this, then the epilogue. Thank you to everyone who's followed the story this far! You have no idea how much I appreciate it.**


	22. The Protector

**All right, this is going to be my final author's note. So, can I just say an enormous thank you to everyone who's participated in this story- be it by helping me write it, reviewing it, alerting it, or just simply reading it. I am so, so, so grateful to all of you. Can I also ask everyone reading this to say a big thank you to yoyocrazy, for helping me make the cover (which will be up soon) and to everyone whose reviews and PMs encouraged me or asked difficult questions about the plot which I then had to answer- you have no idea how much it's helped.**

**I've had some people asking, so NO, this is most certainly not going to be my last Elder Scrolls story. In fact, I've already started work on my second and have plans for a third… **

**Can I just make a final request for reviews- just so I know what was good, what was bad, what your favourite bits were, etc, so I know what works and what doesn't for my coming stories!**

**So, on to the second-last chapter, the final one before the epilogue. Thanks for sticking with me, A'jira and Zaran this far. I hope you enjoyed it, because I know I did!**

**-Sky**

* * *

Chapter Twenty Two- The Protector

Snow is falling, settling in a thin layer of sparkling white dust on my crimson scales as I circle around the summit of the towering _Monahven. _It is a lonely place now, without Paarthurnax there, an ageless guardian of the whole land. Even though the ends of two seasons have come and gone since he left, I still miss the old _dovah. _I long for his words of comfort and wisdom and his deep, rumbling chuckle. The plateau on the top of the _strunmah _seems empty without him.

But I have carried on, and I will carry on for as long as needs be. For when the _Dovahkiin _is in danger, Laaskriiah and I are sworn to go to her side. Not, of course, that she needs our help now that she has turned into the mighty _kendov _that she has become. How far she has come from the fierce, naïve youngster that confronted us to find out her destiny all that time ago! _Nid, _her name is spoken with reverence now by every _mun, fahliil, kaaz _and _jel _that walks this world.

As I settle on the peak of the _monahven, _I reflect on all that has happened since Alduin fell. Every dawn seems brighter, ever night less dark, with him gone and the _Dovahkiin _protecting this land.

The sun had not set three times on Alduin's defeat before there was a wedding in the city to the south, the city of thieves and rivers. Of course, I could not attend myself, but I saw the _Dovahkiin _and Ziiahkrin afterwards, and there could be no mistaking the joy in both their hearts. How wonderful it must be, to give your heart to somebody and receive theirs in return. To belong to someone, and know that they belong to you. This is a feeling that comes all too little to the _dovahhe. _The life of a _dovah _is a lonely one. Perhaps this is why I feel so happy for the two _joorre _it is my duty to protect- they are blessed with something that I cannot even dream of. And now that they are bound together for _laas, _I wonder what they will be able to achieve…

Already they have achieved much. As I fly over Skyrim now, I see _kaazze _roaming free about the towns and villages, dining and drinking in the inns like any ordinary _joorre. _In the city of snow, wind and storms to the north, a city that has always been divided by race, I see _jelle _and _bronne _and _vulfahliille _working together as equals. The walls between races exist no more, and that is thanks to what the _Dovahkiin _and her friend have done.

The dragons who were enslaved to Alduin's followers are nearly all free. Kestmaarvah, Nahzahkriiyol, Fodiiniiss… all my _fahdonne _from the old times. My heart warms to see them restored to themselves again. It almost makes up for the loss of Paarthurnax. Almost. Very few of the dragons who still reject the leadership of the _Dovahkiin _are still alive. Nahagliiv and Vuljotnaak fell recently to the _Dovahkiin, _Ziiahkrin and their new warriors. They have done as they vowed to- with the help of the Jarls of the Holds of Skyrim, they rebuilt High Hrothgar and founded a society there. These warriors are men and women who love and treasure their homeland, and are taking up the Way of the Voice as well as their blades in order to defend it. Many of Alduin's followers have died at their hands. Viinturuth is still at large, but he cannot hide forever. It will not be long before he, too, is brought to justice, of that I am sure. I know where he is, and I am here to tell the fighters of the _Dovahkiin._

Like the Greybeards, these new warriors are taught the power of the _thu'um. _Like the Blades, they defend _Keizaal _against those dragons that seek to destroy it. Unlike the Blades, though, who believed that any and every dragon was their _hokoran, _their enemy, the warriors of the _Dovahkiin- _she calls them the Dragonhearts, and not without good reason, for they have courage to match the strongest of _dovahhe- _work hand in paw with the _dov. _They vanquish those dragons that are evil and protect those who are good. Not only that- dragon and Dragonhearts work together, hunting down the _dovahhe _that are evil and defeating them side by side. And those _dovahhe _that wish, as Paarthurnax did, to overcome their inner demons, are helped. This is an alliance between _joorre _and _dov _that I never dreamed possible.

I forsee a glorious future ahead for all of this land. Dragons and mortals working as one can only mean a bright new world approaching. With such warriors to defend it, Skyrim will surely be protected against any threat. Far more than Alduin met its _dinok _in Sovngarde that day. Evil, corruption, inequality and injustice died along with him.

I look down. In the courtyard of High Hrothgar, the _Dovahkiin _and Ziiahkrin are talking. His eyes are closed, and he appears in deep concentration. The _Dovahkiin _whispers something to encourage him, and he opens both eyes and mouth and Shouts.

_'Fus!' _

The dummies set up for training are knocked to the ground and both Ziiahkrin and the _Dovahkiin _roar with delight, as does Laaskriiah and the frost dragon Kestmaarvah, who are watching from nearby. This is his first _thu'um, _the first_ thu'um _uttered by any one of the Dragonhearts apart from the _Dovahkiin. _This is a great achievement. I know that these Dragonhearts will go far with such leadership. They will soon become a _zoor, _a legend- of that I am certain.

Kestmaarvah calls something out to Ziiahkrin, and he nods before Shouting again, with even more strength behind his Voice this time. One of the dummies is sent hurtling off the cliff, and I roar my congratulations down to the young _jel _along with the others. Nearby, a startled bird takes flight from its perch on the roof of the temple, flying out over the mountains and down to the world below.

It is such a beautiful world. Now that the threat of Alduin is over, no place is more wonderful. What could be more beautiful than a world where all are equal, and _joor _and _dovah _work side by side? The rivers seem to run clearer now, the sky seems more blue, the trees more green, the snow more white. The once forbidding crags and cliffs of the _strunmahhe _now seem friendly. They stand like a row of eternal guardians, watching out for danger. Even the stars shine with more light than before.

I am surely blessed to live my _laas _in such a world.

'Odahviing!' The _Dovahkiin _has seen me; she is calling me down. I fold my wings and dive down to alight on the courtyard.

'_Drem yol lok, fahdon!' _I greet her.

'And you, friend.' She smiles. 'What news?'

'Viinturuth hides himself near the place you know as Shearpoint. Some of our _dovah fahdonne _are watching him, in case he should try to escape. He is still wounded from our last attack. He should not be difficult to defeat.'

'Good. And what about the dragon that died to bring him back? Is he near enough to regain his soul when we kill Viinturuth?'

'_Geh, _with all luck.' I claw at the snow, as if I were raking my talons down Viinturuth's hide. He deserves nought more than death after what he has done.

'Good. Zaran, go and fetch everyone. Laaskriiah, Kestmaarvah, can you prepare the other dragons? We need to get over there as fast as we can.'

'Consider it done, _Dovahkiin,' _Kestmaarvah growls, and Ziiahkrin turns and runs towards the temple.

'Thank you. Odahviing, can you fly ahead a little and scout for danger? If the coast is clear, come straight back. We'll need you to show us the way to Shearpoint.'

'You would have to chain me to the ground to stop me, friend.'

The _Dovahkiin_ smiles her eager smile. 'Thank you, _fahdon. _Be careful.'

I nod as I take off to do her bidding. As she runs into her temple to gather her warriors, I feel a sudden surge of affection for this young _kaaz _who it is my duty to protect. Always thinking of others before herself. Always working for the safety of the land. Always ready to fight for what needs fighting for. This is a _kendov, _a true _kendov kiin. _A warrior born!

I roar to the clouds as I beat my wings, rising higher in the sky. The _ven, _the wind, welcomes me into its arms as I spread out my wings to ride upon it. A breeze lifts me up and carries me high into the air. I look down, down upon this beautiful land. The mountains glisten with frost. The blue of the sky resembles a calm sea. The trees sway in the breeze, brushing icicles from their boughs. The clouds send down a fine shower of snow that lays its blanket upon the ground, turning all it touches shining diamond white.

It is winter here in Skyrim. For how else can spring come again?

* * *

END OF PART THREE


	23. Epilogue

Epilogue

The only sound was the whistling of the wind. Thirty faces, eyes wide with excitement, stared at the pale grey tabby Khajiit woman as she gently turned the final page of the book. She spoke two words, looking up at her audience and smiling.

'The end.'

Instantly whispers broke out all around. Both dragons and mortals looked at each other, their faces displaying everything from disbelief to delight to excitement to pride. Questions buzzed through the air and the Khajiit woman did her best to answer, as did the crimson dragon perched on the roof of the temple and the green-scaled, green-eyed Argonian who stood by the Khajiit's side.

'What was it like, becoming a dragon?'

'Will Paarthurnax ever come back?'

'Is it all true?'

Through the tumult, a single figure, a young Khajiit girl not more than eleven years old, rose from her seat and silently slipped away through the group crowding around the storyteller. Her ash-grey fur, tainted pale orange in the light of the setting sun, ruffled in the breeze as she made her way across the courtyard, leaving patches of melted snow and frost in her footsteps. As the crowd of people started to drift away, back into the warmth of the High Hrothgar temple, and the dragons took off to return to their dens around the mountain, she alone remained, standing on the small tower, looking out over the land of Skyrim. Her home.

Her eyes, amber as the sun that was beginning to sink beneath the crags and peaks, glowed with wisdom and understanding far beyond her age as she cast her gaze over her country. The tip of her tail twitched slightly. Questions flew around in her mind like birds imprisoned in a cage, flapping their wings against the bars, trying to get out. The moment she tried to focus on one long enough to answer it, it broke free and slipped through her fingers. Her brow creased in a frown.

Lost in thought, the child did not hear the quiet footsteps approaching, nor did she see the Khajiit woman who had been telling the story walking up behind her until she felt a soft hand on her shoulder. She started, then relaxed as she realised who it was. She smiled.

'Are you all right?' The older Khajiit spoke first, looking at the younger one with an expression of concern. 'You've been very quiet all evening.'

'I'm fine.' The child blinked and turned back to the sprawling world. 'It's just…' She let out a long sigh, shaking her head little. 'The story. I was thinking about the story.'

The adult tipped her head on one side, looking quizzical. 'The story? But you've heard the tale of my battle with Alduin a thousand times. Why should it affect you like this now?'

For a moment, the youngster said nothing. Then she started to speak in a low voice. 'Before, I always thought about the quest itself. How you discovered that you were Dragonborn, how you met Father, how you fought Alduin. I thought about the battles and the danger. I never really thought about the future.'

'The future? What do you mean?'

Looking troubled, the Khajiit child shrugged ever so slightly. 'What Alduin said. Before you killed him. He said he was fated to come again, at the end of the world.' She looked up at the woman who stood beside her, a mixture of maturity and childhood innocence in her amber eyes. 'Do you think it's true? Do you think he really will be back one day?'

With a smile and a small chuckle, A'jira placed her arm around her daughter's shoulders. 'We can never know the future, my little dragon,' she murmured. 'We live in the today, not the tomorrow. What has happened has happened and we cannot change it. What will come will come, and we cannot avoid it. It's the here and now that matters. It's now that we can influence and change. The things we do now will shape our lives and the lives of others for centuries to come. We cannot know what tomorrow will bring, only do our best to face it when it comes, and prepare those who will have to face the tomorrows that we will not live to see.'

She turned her head, turning her eyes on the green valleys far below, where the last few little birds of the day were fluttering out of the trees towards their nests. 'Why do you think your father and I named you J'shana? It was in honour of everything our ancestor did for us. And one of the many wonderful things that she did was to never give up hope for what was to come. Think how awful it must have been for her, to learn that after everything she'd been through, Alduin was still alive, and was one day to return. But she didn't give up. She left behind gifts to help me when my time came to take up my weapons and defend this world. She didn't despair, didn't surrender, thinking that all she'd done had been in vain. She looked to the future and did her best to prepare me for it.'

'Like us.' The child fingered the hilt of her dagger, as if ready to sink it into the throat of a follower of Alduin. 'Protecting Skyrim to make it a better place for our children.' It was one of the many mottos of all who served under the name of Dragonheart.

'Just like us.' A'jira chuckled and ruffled the fur on top of J'shana's head fondly. 'But remember, never fight without a true cause. A warrior does not fight from anger and hatred. A true warrior fights-'

'For what they love,' J'shana predicted, grinning.

'Exactly.'

'And Alduin? What if he does come back?'

A'jira smiled. 'J'shana- the other J'shana, that is- told me something once. She said, 'If we understood the ways of the Gods, we would be Gods ourselves.' We can't know what the Divines have in store for us, love. We can only hope and pray that if Alduin does return, there will be someone ready to face him.'

J'shana nodded. 'And for now, we do everything we can to keep Skyrim safe.'

'Of course.' A'jira nodded. 'Remember, J'shana, the code of honour of the Dragonhearts. Defend those that need defending. Fight for what needs fighting for. Give your honour, your weapons and, if necessary, your life, for what is right. Because?'

She looked at J'shana, waiting for her to finish, and the young Khajiit replied with fierce devotion.

'Because the future is what we fight for!'

Mother and daughter stood hand in hand, looking out over the land they loved, watching the snow turn to amber as the last rays of the sun disappeared, behind the mountains.

~ The End ~


End file.
